This Fragile Life
by Kallah
Summary: The evil men do lives after them, the good dies with their bones. Chapter 16: Elena, Green Deep in the Heart.
1. Hojo: I Alone am Sufficient

_

This Fragile Life

_  
Hojo: I Alone am Sufficient  
  
  
Hojo examined his equipment, checking for any flaws; the slightest flaw could ruin his precious samples. The operation was so simple even the lowliest of his assistants could perform it, but for this experiment, and on this specimen, he would allow no chance of error. He would, consequently, perform it himself.  
  
The specimen is ready, Professor Hojo, his assistant informed him. He was not of Lucrecia's caliber, of course. In all the years since her death, he had not found anyone as skilled to replace her. He shook off the pointless memory, checked the healing materia in his armor, and said, Then we begin.  
  
He cut the specimen's abdomen open and laid her open to view; there were no obvious defects, and the hasty preparations had done the necessary work. Now, even if the specimen escaped again, he would not lose her valuable data. He made another incision and began to remove the ova from the left ovary, immediately placing them in the cryogenic tubes to preserve them. He removed only a percentage of the ova, of course; studying the effects of natural conception and pregnancy would garner valuable data for his theories. He had an unwitting volunteer for that part of the experiment; he had merely bribed a doctor to reverse a minor surgery, and trusted that affairs would take their desired course. They certainly had previously.  
  
He healed that incision and made another, and removed a percentage of ova from the right ovary, placing them in cryogenic tubes. He healed that incision, corrected a slight tilt of the uterus, examined the fallopian tubes and the cervix, and nodded in satisfaction. Perfect. He healed each of the incisions he had made for the operation until it was impossible to tell by sight that any operation had been performed. The specimen might notice residual soreness, of course, but she was not likely to know what had been done. Not that it mattered, since there would be nothing she could do about it.  
  
Take the Ancient back to her cell. We'll perform more tests once she awakens from the anesthesia, he ordered.  
  
Yes, Professor Hojo. The assistant, whose name Hojo could not remember, efficiently bundled the specimen onto the gurney and wheeled her away.  
  
Hojo picked up the tubes and took them back to his lab, placing them carefully in the freezer alongside the sperm samples. He examined each of the cryogenic tubes containing sperm carefully; certain samples had been in storage for more than five years, and were now entirely irreplaceable if the cryogenic tubes should fail. He would test them thoroughly tomorrow, when his plans were finalized and he could begin the experiment. He closed and locked the freezer doors, walked into his office and locked the door behind him.  
  
The three files he took from his desk were supposed to be confidential, at the least. However, Shinra being what it was, it had been quite easy for Hojo to obtain them. One file he reluctantly dismissed; however much personal satisfaction using that particular subject would bring him, it was simply too risky. The risk to himself was within acceptable parameters, but the risk to the experiment was not. The other two files were considerably more promising, both subjects quite strong and physically suited for the experiment, and he considered them carefully. The second subject would require considerably more time and effort in preparation; he marked the file for review, and examined the remaining file. This subject was superior to the second in most respects, although much less available. He noted the date for a routine medical examination and smiled. Or perhaps not as unavailable as he'd thought. He would have to work quickly, but the rewards could be great.  
  
There was no time like the present. Hojo picked up the telephone and made a call.  
  


* * *

**'The evil that men do lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones.'** – Shakespeare, Julius Caesar, Act 3, Scene 2.   
  


_More to come ... this is only the beginning._

* * *


	2. Tifa: Stars in the Wind

_ This Fragile Life _   
Tifa: Stars in the Wind   


  
  
  
Tifa leaned on the _ Highwind's _ deck rails and looked out over the starlit ocean. They had just flown through a storm, and the cool wind blowing over the deck still smelled of rain and lightning. The deck rails were cold and wet, the deck a bit slick; she braced herself carefully against the airship's gentle pitch and roll. Cid's voice carried up from belowdecks; he was probably yelling at Yuffie again for retching all over his ship. It was quieter up here, even Cid's bellowing sounding further away than it really should, half-drowned out by the wind of the _ Highwind's _ flight. She heard footsteps on the metal stairs and turned to see Cait Sith bound out onto the deck, skid a foot or so, and bound across toward her.   
  
Shinra don't know where Cloud is either, Cait said, stopping a safe distance away from her. Safe, in this case, meaning he could dodge before she threw him overboard. So he's probably as safe as he's gonna get.   
  
Why are you here, Cait? She stared at the stuffed creature as if it could tell her what kind of a man ran it. Who would have come up with using a fortune-telling toy as a spy? He'd stolen the keystone and kidnapped Marlene and Elmyra, and he'd helped them out at the Temple, although, as it turned out, getting the Black Materia had been a bad idea. But Cloud had been right too, hadn't he? Tifa shook her head, not wanting to think about Cloud or that she didn't know what to do without him stomping around being himself. Cid stomped around enough for several people. Right. She'd think about _ that _ .   
  
The cat shrugged and startled her out of her confused thoughts. Thought you'd wanna know, you was so worried about him. His voice was slurred and shaking, a little louder than it needed to be, and he gestured broadly at her.   
  
She shook her head and folded her arms across her chest, wincing at an unexpected flash of pain across her belly. Maybe she'd hurt herself climbing out of Scarlett's little torture cell. That's not what I meant, Cait.   
  
There was a silence that stretched for a few minutes. Oh. That. The cat hopped off the moogle's head; the moogle rubbed its head and stretched, then lumbered off to stand in the shelter of the deckhouse. Tifa shook her head at the cat's antics as it stretched and cleaned itself for all the world like a real cat. Y'ever figure how many people y'killed? I did. When 'm not chasin' aroun' after you, m tryin' to get orphans sheltered an' hospitals paid so's they can go on tryin' to fix ev'body y'hurt. I gotta splain why dead Shinra took out two whole sectors - slum an' plate - to get y'all.   
  
You've made your point. Tifa turned and looked back out over the water, leaning on the rail. _ Two reactors and an entire sector. Not bad for a half-dozen amateurs, _ she thought bitterly, and suddenly missed Wedge and Biggs and Jessie, would have given everything to have them back arguing and joking and generally being underfoot. We know.   
  
Cait was silent for a few minutes. No. No, y'don't know. Don't _ wanna _ know, do y'? Barrett don't care bout nothin' but the kid, you don't care bout nuthin' but Cloud, Cid's got his ship and all the people y'killed and ev'body they left behind can go to hell.   
  
You're forgetting Vincent, Nanaki and Yuffie. And yourself. Might as well make a thorough job of it. The expanses of starlit water did nothing now to improve Tifa's rapidly sinking mood, which had already been low; the horrible grinding scream of the plate crashing echoed in her mind and she would dream about it if she managed to sleep. The cat flopped over gracelessly when trying to wash its tail, and the uncoordinated, graceless movements told her what set off such an uncharacteristic outbreak. And you're drunk.   
  
An' m drunk, Cait agreed. An' Vincent wallows in guilt an' self-pity, an' Nanaki' an' Yuffie's just kids on an adventure. An m a sporky cat an m the only one who remembers ev'thing y'all hurt.   
  
The cat suddenly flopped over, and Tifa heard it snore. _ Passed out, did you? I could just throw you overboard. You'd never know until it was too late. _ She finally just picked up the cat's body, warm and soft and surprisingly heavy, and dropped it on the moogle. The moogle radiated warmth, welcome against the growing chill, its fur surprisingly soft. _ Without you, we don't have any idea where Marlene is, if she's all right ... _   
  
Tifa leaned back against the moogle and drew her knees to her chest against the wind, and turned to lay her cheek on the moogle's soft fur. She could still hear Cait snoring. Maybe he was right ... maybe they were all selfish, doing what they wanted in the name of the Planet. She wondered what the Planet thought ... did it think? Did all the souls in the Lifestream add up to a Planet's soul? Aeris might have known, or known how to ask, and now Tifa could never ask her anything again.   
  
She felt the tears start, spilling down her cheeks onto the moogle's fur. So many things she'd wanted to ask Aeris, so much they could have said to each other, and now she never could. Sector 7, Jessie, Biggs, Wedge, Aeris, Cloud ... the losses just piled one on another on another on another and Tifa was sobbing outright, face buried in the moogle's fur and arms wrapped tightly around it. _ I want it all back! Father and Nibelheim and Cloud and Aeris and Sector 7 and Jessie and Wedge and Biggs, I want them all back! _ She pounded her fists into the moogle's back, vaguely surprised how solid it was. _ I wanna wake up and ... and it was all just some horrible neverending nightmare and it never will be ... it's always gonna be real ... _   
  
Someone touched her shoulder and she started, spinning around to see Vincent. Oh! I ... she stopped, embarrassed and still weeping. I ...   
  
He shook his head and knelt down next to her, claw glittering in the starlight. It is all right. I realized I had not seen you or Cait in a while.   
  
She nodded, dragging her hand over her eyes and forcing herself to stop crying. I was ... trying not to think, so I came up here ... She looked at the cat, which was still emitting steady snores. I guess whoever runs Cait got drunk, and ... had a lot to say. About everything ...   
  
Vincent awkwardly put the arm with the claw around her shoulders; it was warmer than she'd expected, smooth warm metal burnished almost as soft as skin. She tensed, startled, then relaxed, and leaned into him. I can imagine, he said, shifting so that his cloak covered her from the wind.   
  
...He was right. We are doing what we want without thinking about the cost, she said, half-hidden against his shoulder. I wonder how many people ...   
  
Vincent said, hugging her with his other arm, and pulling her close against him. Even if we are doing things for selfish reasons, good can still come of it. And someone must stop Sephiroth.   
  
She sighed. He smelled of cloves and cinnamon, his clothing sleek and smooth like silk, and she was suddenly exhausted. Sephiroth ... he took everything from me once, and he's going to again ... She breathed in the sharp spicy scent of him, cloves and cinnamon tanged with gunmetal, and, drowsy enough not to think about what she was saying, asked, Vincent? Do you ... ever miss Shinra? Miss being a Turk?   
  
He bowed his head, long black hair brushing over her face, and was silent, silent long enough that she almost began to apologize for asking. Shinra? No ... I do not miss Shinra. It was ... I was very young when I started, barely older than Yuffie, and I ... did not know better. Shinra was even then becoming what it is now. He shook his head, then flicked his hair back over his shoulder and out of her face. There are times I miss my fellow Turks. Our first loyalty was to each other, not to Shinra ... I do not know if that has changed. But any Turk I knew is long since dead. Turks do not live long.   
  
Tifa yawned. Vincent's body was surprisingly cool, or maybe the moogle's had been hotter than she realized. She shivered and he pulled his cape closer aroumd her. You don't know any of the ones we've fought?   
  
He shook his head, and his spice-scented hair flowed over her face again. Tseng reminds me of ... someone I knew once, long ago, he said, shifting her against his body. Reno ... I knew someone very like him, and Rude .... Rude reminds me of the Turks' leader when I began. He paused, and said softly, Elena ... reminds of myself.   
  
Elena does? Tifa mumured. You reminded me of Tseng when I met you, Vincent. Something about the way you spoke, the way you moved ... Her eyes closed. Vincent, about to say something, felt her breathing slow into sleep, and stopped before he woke her. He gathered her gently in his arms and carried her down to the bunk room. He put her down gently on a bunk and drew a blanket over her. Tifa dreamed about the plate crashing, and the screams of the dying drowned in Sephiroth's laughter.   



	3. Hojo: Seek No Level of God or Devil

_ This Fragile Life _   
Hojo: Seek No Level of God or Devil   


  
  
  
Hojo paced his office restlessly. His precious specimen was dead, her body unrecoverable; only the ova he had taken from her remained. The Ancients, for all intents and purposes, were extinct; without a male to collect sperm samples from, the bloodline would only dilute further no matter what he did. It was such a pity only Ifalna had survived; if only she had had so much as a brother or a male cousin. At least a fragment of the Ancients would go on, thanks to his foresight and scientific acumen; his life's work was not wholly ruined.   
  
The experiment was already in progress. He had taken perhaps an unconscionable chance in using a chance-found, unprepared subject, but it was highly unlikely he would ever have access to her again. The opportunity had been far too good to pass up; the subject's defects had required some surgical correction, leaving the chance of failure higher than he liked. Of course, the last experiment he had called a failure had been far more successful than he would have dreamed possible. The risk factor did, however, make the other, carefully prepared, subject that much more important, and that was the problem gnawing at his mind.   
  
He had only had access to her records, not the subject herself; a few well-placed bribes had induced her physician to prepare her for the experiment and to prove that the preparations had been effective. But to continue the experiment, he needed direct access to the subject herself, and that had been impossible. The only times he had been near her since having her prepared had been less than conducive to experimentation. No one in Shinra truly appreciated science.   
  
The phone rang, and he picked it up with a sigh of annoyance that turned into glee as his mind registered what the voice on the other end of the line had to say. Hojo. Yes? I will be there immediately.   
  
He smiled at his luck even as he pulled the file and a pen from his desk. _ Luck? _ he thought scornfully. _ Planning! Foresight! Without them, even if this had happened, I would not have been able to take advantage of it. _ He sent his assistant ahead, hurried back to the freezer, selected a cryogenic tube, and took the elevator to the medical level. He would never have a better opportunity.   
  
The subject was lying sedated and naked on the operating table, goosebumps rising on her flesh from the chill air of the room. Cruel red lines, rapidly fading under the influence of healing magic, marked the injuries that had brought her into the medical center. Hojo examined the injuries and was satisfied that, severe as they were, there was no permanent damage. _ Quite attractive, really _ , he thought, as he examined the subject much more closely and thoroughly. It would take another few minutes for the cryogenic tube to bring its contents to the optimum temperature. _ Such deceptive fragility. _ It was somewhat unfortunate she might not live through the experiment. Of course, if she lived, it would prove she was strong enough to replicate his original experiment.   
  
He sighed. That was impossible; with Jenova gone, he had only one small sample of Jenova cells left, not enough to replicate the original experiment. Then again, perhaps there were ... other ways to achieve a similar result. The subject was not Lucrecia, but then again, Lucrecia had been unfortunately weak in certain respects. He recorded his evaluation, the tube number, and other pertinent information just before the tube's alarm rang softly.   
  
Implanting its contents into the subject was a simple operation taking a matter of minutes, rather an anticlimax to all the worry and effort that had gone into it. Tell the doctor to have her patient rest in bed for the next day or so, Hojo ordered. And remind her to run the required tests in a week.   
  
Yes, sir. The assistant hurried off, and Hojo looked over the subject with considerable satisfaction. _ And you thought I was a poor excuse for a scientist, Professor Gast. _   
  
  


_ To be continued ... _


	4. Elena: Under the Throne, the Snake

_ This Fragile Life _   
Elena: Under the Throne, the Snake   
  
  


  
Elena gritted her teeth against a wave of nausea. _ Damn. Never got airsick before. _ She closed her eyes and refused to look down at the very rapidly moving landscape below. The nausea receded a bit, and she relaxed. Maybe it was last night's dinner; she'd felt nauseous this morning, too. _ Should know better than to buy food from street vendors. _ The plane hit a pocket of turbulence; she swallowed hard to keep from vomiting and clapped a hand over her mouth.   
  
Wake up, Elena, Reno said, poking her with his nightstick. Can't sleep on duty, y'know.   
  
Only drink on duty, huh? she grumbled, opening her eyes and refusing to look out the window. How much further to Rocket Town? Her stomach settled and she dropped her hand back onto the armrest. Rude, sitting next to her, seemed to be dozing.   
  
About another fifteen minutes, Reno replied, leaning back in his seat. No word from Reeve about Strife's crew.   
  
Elena suspected Reeve was playing both sides with Cait Sith. _ More power to you, Reeve, _ she thought. They'll probably show up. Am I running interference this time?   
  
Reno shook his head at her. No, you an' me got a different job this time. Since the Temple's trashed -- He stopped at the look on her face. Damn. Sorry, Elena.   
  
She shook her head, refusing to think about Tseng, or how close she'd come to being able to save him. If she hadn't been attacked by two of those sphinx-like things, she would have made it. What's the job, Reno?   
  
Rude stirred and looked at her with an expression she couldn't interpret. Hojo wants to go to the City of the Ancients.   
  
He thinks he can find out something about Meteor. Or maybe he's just looking for things to experiment on, Reno added. He poked her with his stick again and leered at her. Just you and me ... and an inconvenient mad scientist.   
  
Which one of you am I supposed to be more disgusted with? Elena asked. A grin flickered across Rude's face and Reno rolled his eyes.   
  
Oh, Elena, you know I love ya, Reno said, pouting in an attempt to look heartbroken. You're gonna break my heart.   
  
The only person you love is yourself, Reno, she laughed, and heard Rude's rumbling laugh. He rarely ... none of them had laughed much since the Temple. So close ... she'd almost been in time. She shook her head, and asked, So where's Hojo?   
  
Ah, you know you love it, Elena. He leaned his nightstick up against his seat. He's in the back with his damn files and his sample tubes. Gives me the fucking creeps.   
  
Makes two of us, Elena said, then clamped her hand over her mouth again as the plane descended toward Rocket Town. Hojo looked at her the way he did one of his prized specimens, which was not unlike the way men who didn't know better looked at Scarlet. But if she wasn't on this job, she'd be back at Headquarters with Rufus, and that didn't bear thinking about either. The landing was rough, and Elena concentrated on not losing her breakfast.   
  
After the plane finally stopped moving, the pilot announced a half-hour layover for repairs. Reno slouched off, bitching about planes, pilots and the universe in general, to inform Hojo. Elena stood up, then swallowed hard as the world spun around her, clutching at the seat to keep her feet.   
  
Rude shook his head, though she couldn't tell if at her or at Reno, then stood. Fresh air will help, Elena.   
  
She shrugged dubiously, then followed him out of the plane, standing next to him near a small copse. Sunlight warmed her skin, and the breeze smelled of wet earth. She took several deep breaths, and the nausea receded enough for her to look at her surroundings. Wow. Can that thing really fly? she asked, staring at the tilted, rusting rocket.   
  
Dr. Stargazer says it is still in good condition. He shrugged, leaf-shadows flickering across his skin, and tilted his face into the sun.   
  
Dr. Stargazer? Wasn't she one of the crew that designed it? Elena asked, tucking her hands into her jacket pockets against the chill on the breeze. She'd read about the abortive Space Program once, when she was a child, but it had been a long time. Dr. Shera Stargazer and Captain Cid Highwind ... the same Cid now with Strife's crew? She couldn't remember.   
  
She designed most of the life support systems, he replied, turning his head to look at her. He said nothing for a few minutes; Elena, accustomed to his silences, enjoyed the sunlight and the fresh air, breathing deeply to counter the nausea. I do not like this, he said abruptly.   
  
Rufus' plan? Elena didn't understand any of the science behind the plan, and was rather dubious anyway. Even if it blew up, there would still be all the pieces of it, wouldn't there? This was one of the many times she wished she hadn't dropped out of school to sign up. Maybe she could get Reeve to explain after this job was over.   
  
He shook his head. Splitting up. Especially with Hojo involved.   
  
Elena hunched her shoulders against the rising wind. I'm not thrilled either. Hojo gives me the creeps.   
  
Rude moved to stand against the wind and give her a bit of shelter, turning to face her. Hojo asked specifically for you, he said, his words colored with distaste.   
  
Elena shivered from something other than cold, her stomach roiling briefly before settling down. Lucky me. What for?   
  
Rude frowned, looking up at the storm clouds rolling in, then looked at her. I don't know. Rufus' plan was to send me and Reno here and you alone with Hojo.   
  
Being alone with Hojo in a ruined city sounded like a cheap slasher flick at best, and ... no, she wanted to keep her breakfast in her stomach. She _ was not _ going to think about at worst. It might even make being stuck with Rufus in his most arrogant and obnoxious mood seem pleasant. Elena shuddered. So what happened?   
  
He was overruled, Rude said, with some satisfaction. Rufus cannot take Tseng's place, no matter what he thinks.   
  
Elena sighed. Tell me about it. Rufus treated her like a glorified secretary at best; she'd slugged him once (he'd more than deserved it, in her eyes), and the sheer disbelief on his face as blood streamed from his nose had been more than worth docked pay and the threat of losing her job.   
  
There was a different quality to Rude's silence this time.   
  
I ... never mind, Rude. She looked away, ashamed.   
  
He clasped her shoulder with one broad, strong hand. What did he say in that meeting? After Tseng's death, Rufus had summoned each Turk, separately, for a meeting. Reno and Rude had never said what he'd told them, but neither of them had looked pleased.   
  
She bowed her head in humiliation. He ... compared me to Scarlet. That Rufus had never really believed she had what it took to be a Turk had been obvious from the beginning, but he'd never said anything when Tseng was alive. Now that Tseng was dead, he had said that she ... that the only reason she was a Turk ... that she had been Tseng's mistress. Whatever he might or might not have felt for her, Tseng would not have tolerated even Rufus talking about a Turk in such a manner. It was why she'd slugged him.   
  
Rude was silent for a minute, hand still resting on her shoulder. Rufus is a fool.   
  
Not that I'm arguing, but what's our esteemed President done now? Reno asked, joining them, slouching against a tree with his hands in his pockets.   
  
Rufus disagrees with Tseng's hiring practices, Rude replied. Elena said nothing; Reno would never let her hear the end of it if he found out.   
  
Reno rolled his eyes. Aw, man, if I have to listen to him bitch about my smoking in his office one more time, I'm gonna ... anyway, I hate to break up this little tête-à-tête, he said, smirking, but time to go, Elena.   
  
She nodded and started to follow him as he slouched off. Rude's hand tightened on her shoulder, and she paused to look back at him.   
  
Be careful, Elena. Reno is ... unreliable. Rude shook his head as Reno stopped to argue with the pilot.   
  
He's gotten worse. Reno had gotten blind drunk for two days running after Tseng died; Elena had been in the medical center for three days, healing from the injuries the sphinx-like creatures had inflicted on her, or she might have been tempted to join him. As it was, Rude had been sitting next to her bed when she woke up, to tell her that they had to go back to work.   
  
Rude nodded. I would rather you were with me, but Rufus insisted. His hand tightened almost painfully on her shoulder, then he released her. See you back at headquarters.   
  
Yeah. Headquarters. Watch yourself, Rude. She hurried to catch up with Reno and boarded the plane, only to find that Hojo had taken her seat. She took Reno's and left him to sit next to Hojo. Of course, that meant Hojo could stare at her breasts, but at least he couldn't try to touch her or make much conversation. It didn't matter for long; the turbulence from the storm front sent her to the bathroom to retch the remainder of the flight.   
  


* * *   
  


Elena stared out over the ruins in disbelief. Only a few of the seashell houses on the edge of the city remained standing, and most of them were riddled with holes large and small. The center of the city was rubble; here and there a foundation remained just intact enough to show where a house had been, but otherwise it was only piles of rubble that covered the interior roads. She glanced down at the road, the spine of something enormous, and saw that the edges near the city were broken off roughly.   
  
What happened here? she asked.   
  
Hojo braced himself on her shoulder. A virus that drove the Ancients mad, he said. They destroyed each other quite effectively. He peered down as she shrugged his hand off and stepped to the side. If the information relayed is correct, there's a reasonably intact house on the far side that will do for a base of operations. He gestured for her to go ahead; Elena felt his eyes on her rear the entire way down, and wished Reno had gone in front instead.   
  
The dust was thick on the abandoned streets, and Elena could make out several sets of prints. The SOLDIER boots no doubt belonged to Strife; the big blurred prints were probably Cait Sith, or maybe ... no, the shape was all wrong for the big cat-wolf. They had to be Cait's prints. There was a second pair of SOLDIER boot prints; one of the sets belonged to Sephiroth. One of the two other sets of prints probably belonged to Aeris, and the other to Tifa or Yuffie; not large enough to be Barrett or Vincent, and human, not ... whatever exactly the big cat-wolf thing was. She didn't blame it ... him? ... for taking the first opportunity to get out of Hojo's lab.   
  
Reno, from Reeve's information, led them to the most intact house. A few crates blocked the rear door; Elena scouted around the back of the house, and determined that it led out, not into a storeroom. A short ladder led up to a sleeping area with three cots; army-issue blankets were folded neatly on each cot. No doubt Strife's crew had left them, and she wondered if they'd intended to come back. There was a glowing crystal by the door; Hojo rapped it with his knuckles and drew them back with a sharp hiss. There was an oozing burn across the back of his hand.   
  
Hojo began searching through the crates, muttering to himself. The crates yielded nothing but rotting tables mice had made nests of, the mice themselves (squeaking angrily and trying to bite), and copious quantities of dust. Elena sneezed and Reno coughed alarmingly.   
  
The other houses may yield more information, Hojo declared, and stalked out of the house. They shrugged, Reno fighting down a final burst of coughing, and followed him across the city as he searched each house in turn, growing more and more frustrated as he found only more mice, more dust, and collections of broken crockery. In the last house, he found a single mouse-chewed book that crumbled into dust in his hands. Hojo swore volubly in Wutai, wiped dust from his hands on his ever-present lab coat, and stalked back, muttering incomprehensibly, to the house with the cots.   
  
We will examine the temple and the altar-room tomorrow, Hojo ordered. We'll begin at dawn. He stretched out on his cot with his back to them; Elena and Reno climbed down the ladder to the first level and took up sentry position by the door. They could hear him tossing restlessly.   
  
Reno pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and offered it to Elena.   
  
Reno, you know I don't smoke.   
  
He shrugged and pulled out a cigarette, then shoved the package back in his pocket. You need some bad habits, he replied, lighting the cigarette and taking a deep drag.   
  
She rolled her eyes. What, putting up with you doesn't count? You could lay off those things, you know. You'll hack up a lung one of these days.   
  
Reno grinned around his cigarette. Aw, that's so sweet, Leney, you being all concerned about my health. He sidled up to her and snaked an arm around her waist. Why don't we lose the mad scientist for a few hours and ...   
  
She jabbed him in the side with her elbow and stepped away. Finish that sentence and I'm gonna ... she said, folding her arms over her chest and glowering at him, trying not to laugh. You fall over here and I'm stuck alone with Hojo.   
  
Aw, is that all I mean to you? Reno sighed hugely. You're gonna be the death of me, Elena. He took another drag off his cigarette and blew a cloud of smoke in her direction. Rude tell you he asked for you?   
  
Elena shook her head. Don't wanna think about it ... this place is creepy enough as it is. She stretched, and her hand brushed across the crystal. It was pleasantly warm, and touching it reminded her of listening to nuns at prayer, that sense of a conversation half-heard and not understood. She rested her open hand on it. What are these things?   
  
Wasn't ... never mind. Reno shrugged and stared at her hand resting on the crystal. Beats the hell out of me. Jeez, how can you do that after the way it burned Hojo?   
  
It's not hot, just warm, she said, taking her hand away from the crystal. The sensation faded into a murmur, and then it was gone. Kinda nice, it's cold around here.   
  
Cold? Feels fine to me, Reno said. He started to say something, then changed his mind. Get some sleep. I'll take first watch.   
  
Elena nodded, climbed up the ladder, and fell asleep on the cot furthest from Hojo's. The sense of half-heard conversation haunted her, echoing through the shadow-haunted city in her dreams until Reno woke her for her turn at watch. The crystal was glowing brighter now, too hot to touch; the warmth was more than welcome in the cool night air. She wondered, walking up and down the short hall to keep awake, what Strife and his crew had come here for in the first place. Maybe they'd had the same idea Hojo had, that there might be some solution to Meteor here. If there ever was, they'd taken it away with them, and she suspected they'd find nothing on that altar but bloodstains. Reeve had been broken up over Aeris's death, as if it was his fault; Hojo had been angry that his precious specimen was dead. Tseng ... Tseng might have cared. But Tseng had already been dead. She'd failed. The most important job of her life, and she'd failed. _ Tseng ... _   
  
She shook her head at the useless thoughts, forcing it all back down in the bottom of her mind. But none of the local monsters seemed interested in the city, and Strife's crew was probably headed for Rocket Town. She stopped near the crystal to soak up the warmth, and felt the same sensation of half-heard conversation; it reminded her of listening to the nuns at night prayers from the orphanage dormitory. Her cell phone went off; she jumped, then answered it. Elena? Reeve-san? Yes, right away, sir. She climbed back up the ladder and woke Reno. Over Hojo' voluminous complaints, they left immediately to retrieve a severely wounded Rude from Rocket Town.   
  


To Be Continued   
  


  


**************************************************   


** Author Notes: **   
  
Now we are come to our Kingdom,   
And the Crown is ours to take–   
With a naked sword at the Council board,   
And under the throne the snake.   
_ Now we are come to our Kingdom! _ '   
– Rudyard Kipling, The Kingdom'   
Kipling may have been an imperialist, but the man wrote damn fine poetry. Shinra and Hojo both in this poem, and maybe even the Cetra, depending on how you think they died. I couldn't find a correct version of it online, sorry.   
  


**************************************************   


  
  
  



	5. Tifa: And Your Back Up Against the Past

_ This Fragile Life _   
Tifa: Your Back Up Against the Past   


  
  
  
_ Tell me how many times must it be this way   
With your arms around the future   
And your back up against the past? _   
- The Moody Blues   
  
  
  
  
S'good enough, Cait decided, taping down the last of Rude's bandages as Tifa opened the bedroom door. You hang on until they get here, Rude. Elena was leavin' soon as she got Reno an' Hojo up. One of the mechanics had told her where to find Cait; he had borrowed' a small house to care for Rude. The house was owned by someone very fond of pink and frills; Tifa suppressed a grin at the sight of Rude, stripped down to his boxers, sitting propped up on pink lace pillows with a frilly pink comforter at his feet. There was a table with a small fussy lamp next to the bed, and an upholstered chair against the wall, his much-abused suit tossed over it.   
  
...Tifa. Long time, Rude said, turning to look at her. He might even have smiled, before he grabbed the comforter to cover himself in embarrassment. She'd forgotten how pale he was; he still never got any sun. Surprisingly blue eyes, disturbingly like Cloud's but without the Mako glow, watched her; his shades were sitting next to the lamp on the table. He was terribly battered, most of his unbandaged skin beginning to bruise, and blood seeping through a few of the bandages. Even Rude's stoicism couldn't hide the pain, and she looked away quickly, eyes fixing on a floral still life hanging over the bed.   
  
Yes. A long time, she replied. He looked away from her and adjusted the comforter as Cait finished fussing with the bandages. Rude had always been shy like that.   
  
Cait sighed and drooped in his version of an apology. Couldn't just leave him, Tifa.   
  
No, I guess not, she sighed. Since you called the rest of them, we're leaving. The only time she ever wanted to see that bastard Reno again was when she beat him into the ground for destroying the pillar. The blonde, Elena, she knew little about ... but if she'd chosen to be a Turk and Tseng was, or had been, interested in her, that was reason enough to dislike her. Rude had been worried about Elena when Corneo had taken her, she remembered, with a small irrational jolt of envy.   
  
The cat nodded. Guess you don' wanna meet up with em. Probably get home an' find Reno's drunk all m'beer and passed out on m'couch again. Cait shuffled out of the small bedroom and Tifa shook her head. She never quite knew what to make of Cait. He didn't give her the impression of someone who liked to drink, much less someone who liked to drink with scum like Reno. She shook her head at the uselessness of her thoughts, rubbed her aching back, and turned to leave.   
  
Tifa. Take care. Rude smoothed the surface of the comforter nervously.   
  
She looked away, looked at anything except Rude, remembering too much. I'd say the same, Rude, but ... but you never listen. She turned and quickly walked out of the room.   
  
What was _ that _ about? Cait asked, as they left the house.   
  
Mind your own business, Tifa said shortly. When Zangan had brought her to Midgar, he'd left her with another of his students, Rude's sister. Rude had been solicitous of his sister's sick houseguest, though she rarely found out about anything he brought her until he was already gone. Mostly just little things, but once he'd brought her a basket of fresh fruit; it must have cost him a fortune in Midgar. He'd given that to her himself ... and kissed her. _ Not _ a brotherly kiss, either. His sister had teased her later that evening for being too dense to figure out how Rude felt. Then he'd become a Turk. He'd kept it from her as long as possible, but it had only made her even more furious when she found out.   
  
She shook her head and pushed the memories away. _ No time for that _ , she thought, and kept from wincing when a cramp flashed through her belly. _ Gah, haven't had cramps this bad in a while _ , she thought, as a second one struck her. She gritted her teeth. They had to find Cloud, Cid and Vincent, and think of a way to get past Sephiroth's barrier. Stupid cramps were _ not _ going to stop her; she frowned, realizing she should have had her period a week ago. All the stress must have knocked her off her cycle, and she couldn't very well spend the day lying in bed with a hot water bottle. She fought off a yawn. No matter how tempting lying in bed all day was, hot water bottle or not.   
  
She blinked, realizing Cait must have been trying to get her attention for a while. The next thing to register was the sound of Yuffie yelling and someone howling in pain.   
  
Sorry, Cait. Let's go. They hurried to the source of the yelling, a small grove not far from the launch site, to find a battered Palmer surrounded by Yuffie, Barret and Nanaki.   
  
You launched the rocket with people on it! Yuffie yelled. Palmer cringed away from her as she waved her shuriken menacingly in his direction.   
  
Nobody was supposed to be on it! Palmer howled. He looked beseechingly at Cait and Tifa as the least actively hostile of the group.   
  
Change the damn course! Barret ordered. You're gonna kill them!   
  
I can't! I made Shera fix it so no one could change the course!   
  
Geez, somebody oughta tell Shera not to obey orders, Yuffie said, shaking her head. Hey! Where is Shera? I figured she'd be right there watching the rocket launch!   
  
Palmer bounced, his eyes going wide. Oh! She musta still been on the rocket! He shook wildly. Cid's gonna _ kill _ me! he wailed.   
  
We might beat him to it, Tifa said, punching the air. Sweat streamed down her face; the heat from the rocket launch had not dissipated, though she seemed to feel it more than the others. Even Barret wasn't sweating, and he hated the heat. Palmer cringed and looked at Cait, who waved his megaphone around. Barret scowled; Nanaki decided to take a great interest in the condition of his claws. Palmer suddenly brightened.   
  
The escape pod! I forgot about the escape pod! They can get off on that! he exclaimed, bouncing.   
  
Nanaki yawned widely, revealing rows of murderously sharp teeth. You would not, he said, quite gently, lie about that, would you?' Tifa rubbed her back, tried not to yawn herself, and wished she could sleep for about three days straight.   
  
Palmer shuddered, staring fixedly at Nanaki. I never lie! Never never never!   
  
Cait asked. What about that time you tol' Scarlet Rufus was ...   
  
No no no! Palmer wailed. Don't mention that! He stopped in mid-breath and stared at Cait. How'd you know that? You're a cat!   
  
Yuffie laughed. Your disguise failed, Cait, he sniffed you out!   
  
S'pretty good for Palmer, Cait agreed. Yep, _ I'm _ a cat! An' _ this _ is a moogle. He pointed at the stuffed moogle he was riding on. The moogle waved. Cait pointed at Nanaki. An' _ that's _ a hungry Nanaki, and that's a ...   
  
Palmer squeaked, before Cait could say something about Barret. Tifa decided it was just as well, Cait would probably have made Barret mad. It's ... hungry?   
  
It has been quite some time since breakfast, Nanaki mused, cleaning his claws.   
  
Cait went on blithely, gesturing at Yuffie. An' Yuffie didn't get t'beat up Rude. Tifa shook her head, realizing what Cait was up to. She wondered why, if he disliked the Shinra executives so much, he was still spying on them.   
  
Yuffie grinned, catching on; she winked at Cait when Palmer wasn't looking. And I get _ mad _ when I don't get to beat things up!   
  
Palmer gulped. I swear! I'm telling the truth! We put an escape pod on the rocket cause we couldn't control it on the way down!   
  
Barret shook his head in disgust. How'd a dumb drunk like you ever survive in Shinra, Palmer?   
  
I'm lucky! Palmer exclaimed. Cait choked, nearly dropping his megaphone. They keep me around as a good luck charm! The real mystery's why Reeve's still around!   
  
Yuffie frowned. Who's Reeve?   
  
Secretary of Urban Development, Barret said. Fixes all the stuff that keeps Midgar alive. Well, he don't do it himself usually.   
  
Palmer nodded. Yeah, that's Reeve. He pisses Rufus off twice a week, Heidegger hates him and Scarlet's mad cause he won't go to bed with her!   
  
Sounds like good taste to me, Palmer, Tifa said, wondering how on earth they'd gotten into this discussion. Cait waved his megaphone wildly, seeming to have been struck temporarily speechless.   
  
Palmer went on, oblivious. He's been hanging around the Turks! Maybe he's sleeping with Tseng and _ that's _ why Rufus doesn't fire him!   
  
Cait, sputtering incoherently, fell off the moogle. Tifa resisted the impulse to grin; she suspected she knew what was behind Reeve hanging around with the Turks. Palmer's explanation was _ not _ it. Barret grumbled something about that damn cat', and glowered at Palmer.   
  
Is _ everything _ in Shinra about sex? Yuffie asked, disgusted.   
  
Palmer shrugged. It is when Scarlet's around! Scary scary scary!   
  
Let im go, Yuffie, Barret said, grimacing. Too damn disgustin' to keep around.   
  
Cait clambered back onto the moogle, still sputtering. You want m'advice, Palmer? Don't go back t'headquarters. Turks ever hear what y'said ...   
  
Palmer blanched. Uh ... Rufus told me to go away! Right! Palmer shambled off as fast as he could go.   
  
Ugh. Good riddance, Yuffie said, putting away her shuriken. Come _ on _ , guys! Let's go find Cloud!   
  
  
  
  


* * *   


  
** Author notes: **   
  
Not a _ clue _ where this one came from. Maybe my subconscious wanted a bit of a break. Anyway ... I was always a bit curious about the scene in Gongaga where Rude says he likes Tifa. So ... combine that with Tifa's escape from Nibelheim, and you have that bit. I tried to cut the Palmer scene. It wouldn't go. Cait got just a little _ too _ hyper, I think ... oh well.   
  


* * *   


  
  



	6. Elena: La Nuit Blanche

This Fragile Life   
Elena: La Nuit Blanche  


  
  


Elena muttered a final Cure spell and re-bandaged Rude's arm. "Cait did a pretty good job on him." She pulled the blanket up over him and strapped him onto the table against turbulence, then gripped the edge of the bed as another surge of nausea struck. Rude, oblivious due to a mild sedative, continued snoring gently. Hojo had left the lab a mess, files and sample tubes everywhere, furious at being evicted to allow Elena to care for Rude. Rude had merely been thoroughly embarrassed - first at having been stripped down to his boxers, then at having to lean heavily on Reno to get on the plane, and then at Elena telling him to 'Planet, Rude, lie down, I can't do anything for you until you do!'  
  
"For a toy cat," Reno muttered, sitting in a bolted-down chair by Rude's sickbed. "How is he?"  
  
"He'll be all right," Elena said, leaning on his chair as the nausea receded. "He's probably in better shape than you were after Avalanche beat on you at the pillar."  
  
Reno buried his face in her side and wound his arms tightly around her waist. Elena was ready to smack him until she realized he was shaking like a frightened child.  
  
"Come on, Reno. He'll be fine," she said, running her fingers through his hair. "Get him back to headquarters and someone with a better Cure, and he'll probably be ready for a drink."  
  
" I could use a drink," Reno muttered. The plane lurched in the air; files skidded and papers flew through the air. Sample tubes pinged as they bounced over the lab, one smacking painfully into Elena's elbow.  
  
She clapped her other hand over her mouth as the nausea surged again. "S-sorry, Reno. You'll have to wait until we get back." She swallowed hard. She'd only been able to eat half a ration bar that morning; she couldn't possibly have anything left to throw up. Her fingers clenched briefly in Reno's hair. The turbulence eased and her stomach settled down.  
  
Reno settled his head more comfortably against her side as she continued to absently run her fingers through his hair, her other arm curling around his shoulders. "What, you think Hojo didn't smuggle a bottle on board?"  
  
"Really bad sake, Reno. Only Hojo would drink it." She'd gotten a whiff of it when he'd opened the bottle, and it had made her stomach churn. It was the worst sort of cheap sake, found only in overpriced bottles in gourmet stores on the upper plate. The Wutai immigrants in the slums had family to send them better sake.  
  
"Damn." Reno sighed deeply, leaning into her, one of his hands starting to drift downward. "Shoulda left him in the City. S'a disgusting little pervert."  
  
Elena laughed, then grabbed Reno's hand before it could wander any further afield. She stepped away, or as far away as she could get since she'd only grabbed one of his hands. "You have no room to talk," she told him, slapping him firmly across the face.  
  
"I'm not a pervert," Reno said indignantly. "I'm a hedonist." He snapped his wrist free and dragged her back, snuggling his head against her side again.  
  
"You're impossible . You're acting like a five-year-old." Hojo walked into the room, glowering, just as Elena removed Reno's arms and stepped away. He stalked across to his desk, sniffing audibly at the mess.  
  
"Are you quite through wasting time?" He knelt down to begin collecting his scattered files and sample tubes.  
  
Reno stood up and walked around the chair to lean back against it. "Don't quite see how putting Rude back together is wasted time, Professor Hojo." He rapped his knuckles on his thigh, not quite reaching for his nightstick.  
  
The scientist made a disgusted noise and finished collecting his files; he stood up and glowered at them. " That was not giving your colleague medical treatment." He looked at Elena, his eyes dropping immediately to her chest; she kicked the sample tube at him. It bounced off his shin, and his eyes flashed once. "If you are quite done, I require the use of my lab."  
  
"Well, that could be a bit of a problem, since Rude here's out cold," Reno replied, eyes narrowing. "Guess you'll just have to wait until we get back to Midgar."  
  
Before Hojo could reply, the plane bounced and lurched, dropping a few thousand feet in a heartbeat. Elena lost her balance and would have fallen if Reno hadn't grabbed her, her hands clapped over her mouth as her stomach protested. Hojo staggered, grabbing his desk for balance. Elena lost the battle against the nausea and dry-heaved, nothing left in her stomach to throw up.  
  
"Strap yourselves in!" the pilot yelled over the intercom. "Emergency landing!"  
  
Reno picked her up and carried her into the seating area over her protests. "Strap in! You got Rude strapped down, he'll be fine."  
  
Elena strapped herself in, starting to heave again, as Hojo fell into the seat next to Reno. The plane lurched again, rolling with the rapidly-changing wind, bouncing as the pilot tried to control the altitude. Hojo and Reno strapped themselves in and the light coming in the windows turned brilliant red.  
  
It had been red with the coming of Meteor, of course. Since Meteor had appeared in the skies, everything had had a reddish tint. But now the sky was burning , hot angry light that wanted nothing more than to melt the flesh from their bones, and the plane was suddenly full of voices. Not like the feel of the crystal in the City of the Ancients this time, these were angry voices, raging screaming crying, and the light was trying to burn her to ash. Reno was saying something, but she couldn't hear him over the furious voices, and someone was laughing, the sound freezing her down to the core, and the burning light shifted up the spectrum to white-hot blinding and the laughter followed her down into the blindness, and her flesh was still burning, singing off her bones. The angry voices didn't, fading and fading and fading, and her flesh stopped burning. Eventually even the laughter faded, and there was only silent blindness.  
  
After a while, it stopped being silent.  
  
"What the hell happened?"  
  
"I don't know," a very tired someone else said. "It didn't work."  
  
"...We can see that. Did they get the materia off the rocket?"  
  
"I don't know. We haven't found them yet."  
  
"Fuck," the first person said succinctly. Reno , she remembered, and she became aware of light beyond her closed eyes.  
  
"How's Elena?" the tired man asked. Reeve. She was lying on a cot, a blanket tucked around her. Her throat hurt. She couldn't remember why her throat hurt. Her head hurt too, a dull persistent pounding like the church bells ringing out the hours.  
  
"She's still out. And Hojo's been trying to get at her and ... fuck, next time he shows up I'm gonna ..." An aggravating persistent hum undercut Reno's complaining.  
  
"Enough, Reno," the other voice said. Rude. She couldn't open her eyes yet. "...Time to meet Rufus."  
  
Someone brushed something cool and damp over her face. "She's not feverish anymore," Reeve said. "Look, I'll get her to the doctor when she wakes up. Rufus is furious."  
  
"Like he's been anything else lately?" Reno asked, disgusted.  
  
"...Take care of her, Reeve." It sounded almost like a threat. "Come on, Reno."  
  
Two sets of footsteps left the room, the door closing behind them. Someone sat down in a chair nearby, and she finally pried her eyes open, finding herself in the Turks' office, lying next to Reno's desk. "Ugh," she said, failing to sit up.  
  
"Elena! You're awake!" Reeve exclaimed. He got up and got her a glass of water, then helped her sit up to drink it. "What happened?"  
  
"I was going to ask you that," she replied, appalled at the way her hands were shaking. She had to use both of them to hold the cup steady, but the water eased the ache in her throat. "Reno and Rude gone?"  
  
"Rufus is furious about Cloud getting on the rocket," Reeve replied, carefully not supporting her, but close enough to catch her if she wavered. "He wanted to talk to them."  
  
Elena blinked her eyes into focus, seeing a fresh bruise on Reeve's face. "You," she said, "have to start hitting back." She noticed another bruise, this one a few days old, under the open collar of his shirt. He was exhausted, face lined and weary, his hair fallen out of his ponytail, his shirt wrinkled and his jacket flung on a desk. Her desk, she noted, and his jacket was covering the paperwork she had been assiduously ignoring. Her jacket was hanging on her chair, and her shirt was probably in worse condition than Reeve's.  
  
Reeve shook his head and changed the subject. "His plan ... didn't work." He opened the shades. Meteor loomed closer than ever, part of it blown apart, chunks of rock floating around held on by ... did dead planets even have lifestreams? She made a small sound, and he closed the shades again. "You've been out for most of a day, since about the time the rocket hit. Reno said something happened on the way back from Rocket Town. Didn't say what."  
  
Elena shivered, remembering the light burning her flesh from her bones, screaming furious voices and the chilling laughter. "Think I started hallucinating or something. I thought ... never mind."  
  
Reeve looked at her curiously. "Thought what? Tifa said she thought she heard someone laughing. She thought it was .. Sephiroth."  
  
She looked up sharply. "She heard someone laughing?" At Reeve's nod, she asked, "Did she hear anything else?"  
He shook his head. "Not that she said anything about, why?"  
  
Elena considered and decided it was probably safe enough to tell him. "I heard ... voices. They were angry voices, at that. I felt like I was burning alive. Then I heard someone laughing. Whoever it was, he was insane."  
  
"All Tifa said was that she heard someone laughing," he replied, shaking his head. "Don't know about the rest of it."  
  
Elena shook her head, feeling much steadier; she pushed aside the blanket - a good light wool one, much better than anything she owned, and swung her legs down to the floor. "I have no idea. Maybe it was just being in close quarters with Hojo."  
  
"You should go see your doctor," Reeve suggested. "You were pretty bad for a while."  
  
She groaned. "Rude insisted?"  
  
"Yeah ... They brought you here instead because the infirmary was full of injured MPs. Something got loose out of Hojo's lab." Reeve offered her her jacket, and pulled his on. "Should have cleared out by now."  
  
He accompanied her down to the medical level, ignoring some particularly snide comments from Scarlet. Elena felt Scarlet glaring at her back; the Head of the Weapons Department had found Reeve too tough a nut to crack. Elena, bemused, wondered if he preferred men or just didn't like women who were after conquests; he'd never been anything but a perfect gentleman to her, though that could just as easily be a strong sense of self-preservation.  
  
The infirmary was largely empty, the injured from whatever had escaped Hojo's lab moved out. Turks, thankfully, did not have to wait; the nurse waved her in, took blood pressure, blood samples, and a urine sample, and summoned the doctor. The doctor took her history, asked some questions about the incident on the plane, and went to get the test results. Elena fumed.  
  
"Ms. Elena?" The nurse, looking frightened and carrying a large manila folder, hurried into to the treatment room. "It's important, Ms. Elena," she whispered, shoving the folder at her. "Hojo's been paying Dr. Glatz off - I don't know what for - those records..." She straightened as the doctor returned; Elena hastily stuffed the folder in her jacket.  
  
"Nurse, the patient in Room 6 needs to have his blood pressure checked and blood samples drawn," Dr. Glatz said. "Ms. Elena, if you'll come with me, we can treat the nausea you were experiencing."  
  
"What kind of treatment?" she asked, warily, remembering the nurse's words.  
  
"It's a brief course with an inhalant," he replied, checking his watch impatiently. "It's a fairly recently developed treatment, but it's quite effective."  
  
Against her better judgement, Elena followed him down the hall to a small, bare room with a table, a small incomprehensible apparatus with two air tanks, a table, and a chair, and a mirror against the far wall. "If you'll just sit down there, yes ..." He strapped the face mask on her, then adjusted some dials and started the apparatus. "Now I'll be right back." He left, closing the door behind him.  
  
Whatever was in the air tanks was sharp and bitter-tasting, going straight to her brain and leaving her lightheaded. She leaned her chin on her hand and found herself dozing, dreaming an odd and slightly incoherent dream about the Temple of the Ancients, Sephiroth and Tseng and then Tseng, on a boat in tossing seas. She snapped awake when the door opened.  
  
Dr. Glatz turned off the machine and took off the mask. She took a few deep breaths of normal air.  
  
"How are you feeling?" he asked.  
  
Somewhat surprised, she realized she was feeling much better. "Better. Is that it?"  
  
"Yes, I'll have the nurse send you the paperwork to fill out, Ms. Elena," he said. "You showed up slightly anemic and a little low on vitamins, so keep an eye on your diet, and get some rest if you can."  
  
She nodded and walked back out to the waiting room. Reeve was dozing in a chair, jumping a bit when she touched his shoulder. On the way back out, they saw Hojo hurrying for the elevator, and she was suddenly very conscious of the weight of the folder in her jacket.  
  
"What's Hojo doing down here?" Reeve asked, glaring at the scientist's retreating back.  
  
Elena shook her head. "Nothing I'll appreciate," she said, as they caught a different elevator. "Reeve-san, I need to ask some favors."  
  
"Of me?" He sounded surprised. "I don't know where they are or if they've got the Huge Materia."  
  
She shook her head as they reached his floor. "No, that's not it, Reeve-san. First - do you know the orphanage in the Sector Two slums?"  
  
"The one the Sisters of the Rose run? Yes."  
  
"Can you evacuate it?"  
  
He pondered. "Probably. I've been trying to figure out how to get people to evacuate anyway, and the nuns might be able to help."  
  
She took a business card from her wallet and handed it to him. "If you tell Neve I sent you, she'll help you figure out who to talk to."  
  
He looked over the card and pocketed it. "What's the other one?"  
  
"Can you get into Hojo's lab?"  
  
Reeve choked. "What?!"  
  
His floor was mostly deserted, and his secretary was temporarily elsewhere. "Hojo's been bribing my doctor, but I don't know what for," she told him quickly. "I need to find out, but if the Turks make inquiries..."  
  
"Hojo will conveniently lose the records," Reeve nodded. "I can try, but no guarantees."  
  
Her cell phone went off just before she could answer him. "Elena. Yes. I'll be right there."  
  
"Your turn to get yelled at?" Reeve asked sympathetically.  
  
She nodded. "Thank you, Reeve-san." She turned and walked away. Reeve watched her go.  
  
  
  
  
* * *

Whew ... That last scene was a pain to write. Not sure who gets the next chapter - probably Hojo.* * *

  
  
  



	7. Hojo: Equations of the Blood

_ This Fragile Life   
_ Hojo: Equations of the Blood   


  
  
  
  
Hojo, recording his favored subject's test results in the project log, regretted not using her to reproduce his original, and as yet finest, experiment. Entirely aside from her general physical superiority to Lucrecia (though she was rather small, which might prove problematic in the later stages of the current experiment), it would have been ... quite enjoyable. He smoothed his thinning hair. Of course, none of the methods he had used on Lucrecia would have worked on this subject. Perhaps he could have appealed to her pride, told her he had chosen her for her strength, her power, which, of course, he had; the aesthetic attractions were a ... much appreciated bonus. He shook his head; it was now an entirely useless line of speculation. According to the test results Dr. Glatz had provided, the current experiment was running on schedule and very well; in a very short time, it would be more dangerous to terminate it than to allow it to run to completion. He closed the project log and locked it in the file cabinet next to his desk, then leaned back in his chair.   
  
Well, _ perhaps _ more dangerous. Lucrecia had certainly experienced severe complications. But then, she _ would _ refuse her medication, had refused extra Jenova treatments, and had, by late in the experiment, been prone to attacks of conscience and severe mood-swings. His current subject appeared willing to continue her medication, and Mako would, he hoped, substitute adequately for Jenova. Of course, that wretched Vincent wasn't around to plague her with ceaseless sermonizing and moralizing as he had Lucrecia. He was undoubtedly plaguing Avalanche with it instead.   
  
Hojo frowned, leaning forward to thump his elbows on his desk and rest his chin on his fists. His other subject was also at large with Avalanche, unavailable for testing or comparison. He wanted to compare the untreated, unprepared subject with his carefully prepared, carefully treated subject. He supposed he could ask Reeve. Of course, he wasn't supposed to know about Cait Sith, but really, did they imagine he could _ not _ know? Reeve had stuffed cats (and not infrequently, a live one) in his office, a few moogles (stuffed - had they been alive, Hojo would have immediately confiscated them), and was really the only person in Shinra capable of building something like Cait Sith.   
  
Reeve, he was forced to admit, was almost as competent an engineer as Hojo was a scientist. His expertise kept the reactors (mostly built by his predecessor) running, allowing Hojo to run his laboratory and his experiments; as galling as it was, he owed the capacity to conduct his research to the engineer. The only person who came close to equalling him in her own field was Scarlet, probably the finest still-working weapons designer. He shoved himself back away from the desk. According to the office gossip, she was equally talented in ... other areas, though she had never offered to show such talents to _ him _ . Of course, according to the same rumors, Reeve avoided her like the plague, which only encouraged her.   
  
It was rather a pity he hadn't used Scarlet in the experiment. Watching her reactions would have been quite amusing. He kicked back in his chair and put his feet up on the desk, lacing his hands behind his head. Watching who denied responsibility as she came to term would have been even more amusing. Of course, she would have used all means within her power to ensure the experiment did _ not _ reach full term; if the attempt had killed her, the questions raised would have put him in considerable jeopardy. If she had _ lived _ , she would have moved heaven and earth to find out what had happened. Scarlet was many things, but a fool was none of them, and either way, both he and (more importantly) the experiment would have been utterly lost.   
  
He sighed and thumped himself in the leg with a fist, making the chair wobble alarmingly. Of course, using this subject posed certain risks as well. The single greatest risk had been eliminated with Tseng's death. Turks were the bane of his research. At least when they were not involuntarily providing him with research subjects, though he certainly preferred this one to Vincent. Hojo swung his legs down to the floor with a thump, shoved himself to his feet (ignoring a stubborn ache in his hip), and walked to stand in front of his special freezer, the one with his most precious samples.   
  
He still had two precious cryogenic tubes of sperm samples from his only child. Vincent would, no doubt, be horrified at what he had done to get those samples. The man had no appreciation for science. Two tubes of the Ancient's ova remained, more than enough to run another experiment, if this one succeeded. And, of course, two tubes of embryos, insurance against the failure of the current experiment. It was not likely to fail entirely. He had taken entirely too many precautions with his favored subject, and his chance-found subject would not realize what he'd done until it was too late to stop the experiment.   
  
He had, however, to retrieve his results before anything ... untoward could happen to them. He, of course, would be his favored subject's best chance at surviving the labor and delivery. He had learned a great deal from Lucrecia, and since this subject was stronger, it should be far more successful. The other subject was the worry. She could easily die in childbirth as Lucrecia had, and what of his grandchildren then? He shuddered. Experimental results, he reminded himself firmly. This was no time to become sentimental.   
  
The woman had an attachment to his failed experiment. Though, Hojo was forced to admit, it had succeeded where all the ones he had thought successful had failed; perhaps he needed to rethink his parameters and definitions for that experiment, though by now it hardly mattered. At any rate, since she had such an attachment, perhaps they would assume that it was the experiment's fault. Perhaps he would even take them on as his own, until Hojo successfully reclaimed them.   
  
The effect on the failed experiment's mind when he learned the truth might make for a fascinating research project.   
  
  


_ To be continued - this is growing at an alarming pace - _


	8. Reeve: Tell Me About Hope

_ This Fragile Life _   
Reeve: Tell Me About Hope   


  
  
Reeve stepped into the building and was assaulted by the sounds of antique printing equipment, the smell of ink and photo developing solution, and the clattering of antiquated computers, even a typewriter off in a corner with someone pounding away on it merrily. It reminded him of college; he'd worked on the newspaper for a year, mostly fixing equipment and running the darkroom. He still enjoyed photography, though he had little time for it anymore; it was one of many things he meant to pick up again, in that nebulous future when he had time'. It was rather impressive, in light of what everyone believed about the slums, that it managed to support a newspaper, even one with an irregular, unpredictable print schedule. Someone looked up at him, and he walked over to the desk.   
  
"Yeah? Looking for someone?" the dark-haired, dark-skinned man said, eying him suspiciously.   
  
"Neve de Tormes," he replied, all too aware that he was obviously not a slum dweller, even though he'd traded in the suit for well-worn jeans, t-shirt and jacket.   
  
The man eyed him again, decided he wasn't any major threat, then yelled, "Neve! Visitor!"   
  
A young woman about Elena's age, and a few inches shorter than Reeve, looked up; she had short, rough-cut red-brown hair and features too strong for a woman. As she came over, Reeve noted shrewd, bright hazel eyes that looked over him sharply. Her clothes were clearly second hand, but clean and attractive; she reminded him rather strongly of Elena, though there was no physical resemblance. It was the forthright way she met his eyes, he decided.   
  
"Here ... no, I _ have _ seen you before," she said, eyes narrowing in suspicion.   
  
"Elena said you might be able to help me," he replied. "With the Sisters?"   
  
Neve frowned for a moment. Then her face lightened and she nodded. "Right, then. Ellis, I'm going out. Copy and the photos are in the box whenever you get to them."   
  
Ellis sighed. "Fine. Get some Avalanche photos, dammit."   
  
"They're not even in Midgar!" Neve replied, collecting her coat. Outside, she said, thoughtfully, "No pensé usted bajar aquí se, Señor Secretario. No pienso su colegas tener siempre colección pie aquí en el barrios bajos."   
  
He shook his head, wondering if Elena spoke Spanish as well. He'd never had the chance to talk to her on anything that wasn't related to work or spying. "Sorry, I don't speak much Spanish, Ms. de Tormes." He was rather surprised she'd recognized him; Scarlet and Heidegger between them grabbed most of the publicity. Not, he amended, that he minded; it was easier to get his job done when he was fairly anonymous.   
  
"Mm. You are not what I was expecting. I think the world would die of shock if Scarlet or Heidegger came to the slums without all the Turks _ and _ a retinue of bodyguards." She watched him, waiting to see what he said in response to that.   
  
He laughed, suddenly aware of footsteps behind them. I can't imagine that myself. It's not far from here to the orphanage, right?   
  
"No, no distante a todo. Justa escuchar por horda de grito niños," someone said.   
  
"Alejandro!" Neve said, spinning around, hand dropping to where she undoubtedly had a weapon concealed. Reeve turned, reaching for the butt of the gun under his jacket. Neve relaxed, hands on her hips, and he dropped his hands, eying the stranger. The first thing he noticed was the revolver half-hidden under the trenchcoat. The second was that Alejandro resembled Elena more than Neve did, which was still not very much; he was much more obviously of mixed ancestry than Elena, with large dark eyes, gold-brown skin and a waist-length bronze braid as thick as Neve's arm. The last was that the younger man was staring at him very suspiciously, and then Neve interrupted.   
  
"Hacer no chivato arriba por mi cuenta, hermano!" Neve scolded. "Elena called you?"   
  
He grinned. Don't be so careless then, hermana! He raised his hands in defense when she shook her fist at him. "I rang Elena when I got into town, and she said to meet you. Something about the Sisters."   
  
Neve nodded, grinning back, then noticed the way Alejandro was glaring at Reeve. Oh, this is Reeve, a friend of Elena's.   
  
That did nothing to make Alejandro any less suspicious; indeed, Reeve felt like his sisters' boyfriends must have on inspection by his father. Alejandro said, stepping between him and Neve, are you here to help with the Sisters?   
  
Reeve nodded, refusing to be intimidated by the younger man. Elena asked me to come down, he said. She thought I might be able to help the Sisters out.   
  
Alejandro seemed reasonably satisfied with that answer, though he stayed between Neve and Reeve on the way to the orphanage. None of the local punks seemed interested in bothering them; three of them together, and two of them clearly used to fighting, were worse odds than most of the punks wanted to face. Mostly, though, there were only ordinary people here, trying to scratch out a living. Reeve did what he could for the slums, but it wasn't much and never even remotely near enough. It was, as far as the upper plates and Shinra were concerned, a no man's land best left to its own devices.   
  
The orphanage, when he reached it, proved to be an enormous, cobbled-together and somewhat ramshackle building. According to Reeve's experienced eye, it was sound enough, though Meteor ... he didn't know if even the support pillars would survive Meteor. Children were yelling at the back, with an adult woman trying vainly to keep some sort of order, and the air was filled with the scents of laundry and cooking. Alejandro rapped on the front door.   
  
Yes, can I ... Neve! Alejandro! And - who's this? The middle-aged nun who opened the door peered at Reeve with some interest.   
  
Neve said. He's a friend of Elena's. Reeve bowed briefly to the nun, who flashed a dimpled smile at him.   
  
Come in, come in, she urged, drawing them into a foyer that had seen better days. But it was clean, the wood was lovingly polished, and the books on the shelves (children's books, mostly), showed signs of heavy use.   
  
Where have you been, Alejandro! Six months since your last visit, and never a word! The nun lit a lamp, throwing a warm light on the room.   
  
Alejandro raised his hands in self-defense. Sister Guadalupe, I send letters! Every month I send letters, and some gil for the orphanage more often than not!   
  
Three lines of chickenscratch is not a letter! the nun scolded, hands on her hips.   
  
Sister Guadalupe, we need to see Mother Superior, Neve said, intervening in what sounded like an old argument. Relief flickered across Alejandro's face, and Reeve hid a smile. Is she busy?   
  
Well, I ...   
  
Racing footsteps heralded the arrival of a little boy, not more than five, who skidded to a stop in front of Sister Guadalupe. Sister, Sister, have you seen kitty? I can't find kitty!   
  
Sergio! No running in the house! the nun scolded.   
  
But I can't find kitty and the nasty kids were here and ... and ... The little boy looked like he was about to cry.   
  
Kitty's smart, Sergio, you know that, Neve said, kneeling down. Kitty'll turn up, she always does.   
  
He flung himself into her arms and held on tight. B-but the kids ...   
  
Kitty's too smart for them, Neve said, ruffling his uncombed mop of black hair. She'll turn up at dinnertime just like always, Sergio!   
  
Sergio sniffled. he said, sounding less than convinced, but relaxing his deathgrip on Neve a bit.   
  
Sergio, if you show these people to Mother Superior's office, I'll go look for kitty, Sister Guadalupe offered.   
  
You promise? he asked, peering up at her with damp blue eyes.   
  
Sergio! Of course I promise! the nun scolded in mock offense.   
  
The little boy nodded. Who're they? he asked, looking shyly up at Reeve and Alejandro.   
  
You know Alejandro, he's my and Elena's brother, Neve said. And this is Reeve, he's a friend of Elena's.   
  
Sergio decided this was sufficient recommendation, and let go of Neve so she could stand, though he immediately grabbed her hand and looked warily out at Alejandro and Reeve from behind her. He led them up stairs, down a well-swept hall, up another set of stairs, down another hall and around the corner, to a door with hard wooden chairs lined against the wall next to it. Women's voices drifted through the door.   
  
Uhm, Mother Superior's talking to Sister Luka again, Sergio said, hearing the voices.   
  
That's okay, Sergio, Neve said, ruffling his hair again. We'll wait. Thanks for bringing us up.   
  
He nodded and grinned crookedly at them, showing teeth in need of a trip to the dentist. I'm gonna go look for kitty! He ran off down the hall, making more noise than anything that size should be able to.   
  
That kid, Neve said, sitting down. Alejandro sat next to her, letting Reeve sit on his other side.   
  
He's what, five? Reeve asked. Neve nodded. They're all like that at that age.   
  
You have children? Alejandro asked, raising an eyebrow.   
  
No, my sisters have children. He had two nieces and a nephew, and _ every _ time he went home for a family gathering, his mother asked him when he was going to settle down and have kids. There was no more effective way to drive him up the wall. He liked his nieces and nephew well enough, but they did not inspire him to any great desire to have his own children, even if he could _ remember _ the last date he'd had.   
  
Just then the door opened, and a young nun came out, greeted them curiously, and went on her way. She's new, Alejandro said.   
  
Just got here a few months ago, from the Chapterhouse in Junon, Neve replied, and rapped on the doorframe. Mother Superior, do you have a few minutes?   
  
Neve! Alejandro! If you are trying to tell me to ... and ... Her eyebrows rose as Reeve entered the room behind them, and he knew at once she'd recognized him. And, having seen her, he knew her, vaguely; she'd been involved in some project a few years ago that had lost its funding and was scrabbling by on donations. At any rate, you two, there is far too much for us to do, and far too many people who need us.   
  
Neve took one of the two chairs, and Alejandro the other, leaving Reeve to stand. That's exactly why I'm here, Mother Superior. Neve and Alejandro turned to stare at him in disbelief and potential hostility; he hoped they would listen to what he was saying. More to the point, he hoped the sharp-eyed nun watching him would listen. I can't tell if the support pillars will survive if Meteor hits, and I need to get as many people out of Midgar as possible to give them any chance of surviving. Your Order has Chapters in most of the world's cities, correct?   
  
She nodded slowly. Yes, that is correct. I presume, Mr. Secretary, that you want us to help evacuate the city?   
  
He nodded. Your Order has considerably more credibility in the slums than anything associated with Shinra, particularly after ... He shook his head, not wanting to think about the Sector 7 collapse; he'd managed to sneak out a warning, but he didn't think it had been in time. Watching the collapse had been one of the most nightmarish experiences of his life. Your Order also has a better network outside the city than I do, and would be able to handle the flow of refugees.   
  
And what, exactly, would you expect us to do? And what assistance are you prepared to offer?   
  
I'd like you to evacuate the most vulnerable people first, the ones least likely to be able to get out on their own. Children, the sick, the elderly, he told her, gesturing to indicate the orphanage. As for what I'm prepared to offer - access to transportation, passes to get in and out as necessary, whatever funding I can manage.   
  
Mother Superior considered this. And what about Shinra guards? They've been stationed in the slums for some time now, and quite a few of them have no respect for the Sisters.   
That does complicate matters, Reeve said, thinking. I have no control over the military, I'm afraid. He thought about it for a few minutes. I'll see what I can do, but I can't offer you any guarantees.   
  
She nodded. I would not expect more. Can you offer us any assistance outside Midgar proper?   
  
Yes, I can, he said, confidently. He'd been making just that kind of arrangement ever since Meteor had appeared in the sky; every opportunity found him working out details with colleagues, friends, and subordinates in other cities. He just hoped they had enough time. As soon as you're ready, I can give you contacts who will help you out.   
  
She nodded. I will talk to the rest of the Order, and let you know as soon as we have decided. She favored him with a brief smile. And if you will excuse us?   
  
Of course. Thank you for your time. Reeve bowed to her, then left, closing the door behind him. He could hear Alejandro and Neve talking, and walked down the hallway until the voices faded into a blur.   
  
Something meowed, and he looked around. It meowed again, sounding distinctly annoyed, and he chuckled, recognizing the sound of a kitten that had gotten into something it didn't know how to get back out of. He listened as it meowed again, and followed the sound into what looked like a sewing room, with children's clothes in need of mending, and a basket full of knitting. The meowing, not surprisingly, came from the basket, and he found a kitten - half-grown cat, really - tangled up in a web of yarn. He knelt down and began carefully untangling the yarn.   
  
Once he had extricated it, the cat, purring loudly, jumped up on his shoulder and bit his ear. He laughed. Now what do I do with you? The cat purred and washed its face.   
  
He walked back into the hallway, closing the door behind him, and walked back toward Mother Superior's office, hoping Alejandro and Neve would know what to do with the cat. Running footsteps announced the arrival of Sergio, who skidded to a stop in front of him.   
  
The cat meowed.   
  
Reeve took the cat from his shoulder and handed it over to the little boy. Kitty's fine. Just got tangled up in some knitting.   
  
Sergio looked up at him, awestruck. Thanks, mister! The little boy clutched the cat, who had an extremely tolerant look on its face, and grinned. He turned and pelted off the way he'd come.   
  
Reeve shook his head. Did any five-year-old anywhere walk without an adult yelling at them? Neve and Alejandro came out of the office; he thanked them for their help, followed them back out of the orphanage, and went home. He might actually get more than an hour of sleep tonight. Maybe he could even sneak in a hot soak.   
  
He made it back to his apartment in good time; he almost stopped for Wutai takeout, before remembering that last night's pizza was still in the fridge. He heard one of his jazz CDs playing as he opened the door, and found Elena sitting in his favorite chair, with his cat purring in her lap. She holstered her revolver as he locked the door behind him.   
  
Forget something? She tossed him his cell phone.   
  
Err ... He hated cell phones, if only because when he carried one, Rufus called and harangued him for not being at work.   
  
Rufus is not amused, she said. The cat purred louder when she scratched behind its ears.   
  
He leaned against the doorframe, mildly disturbed at how comfortable she seemed in his living room. His music was playing on the stereo, she was sitting in his favorite chair, _ and _ his cat, greedy for attention as always, was curled up in her lap; he was beginning to feel superfluous in his own house. She looked tired, as if she might doze off any time; at least he was reasonably sure she hadn't finished off a bottle or two of his best liquor.   
  
Reeve said from much experience, is rarely amused. Fighting as Cait Sith was less dangerous than going to work; he half-expected Rufus to lose his patience any day now and just shoot him, or have the Turks do it.   
  
Elena laughed bitterly. Oh, believe me, I _ know _ .   
  
Yeah, I guess you would, he said. The Turks alternated spending most of each day guarding Rufus. Rather, Tseng had alternated with Reno and Rude, and only now that he was gone did Elena get that duty. From some of what he'd overheard, he suspected Tseng's assigning Elena other duties had nothing to do with her skills, but with Rufus' attitude. He had no idea why she'd done it, but the day she'd punched Rufus in the nose had been the highlight of his acquaintance with him.   
  
The cat meowed sharply, hopped off her lap, and ran over to wind around his ankles. Oh sure, Reeve said to the cat, kneeling down to pet it. _ Now _ you remember me. I just feed you every night. The cat jumped into his arms, purring, clambered up onto his shoulders, and started kneading.   
  
Elena laughed, some of the tiredness disappearing from her eyes; it was a remarkably friendly sound, unlike his colleagues, whose laughter was usually malevolent. And where exactly were you?   
  
Attempting to convince a nun to see things my way, he replied, over the cat's loud purring.   
  
The flash of hope in her eyes startled him; he hadn't realized how much it meant to her. Did it work?   
  
I don't know yet, he replied, as the CD ended. I think she listened though. He decided he'd wait until morning to ask her about the guards.   
  
That's more than I managed, she admitted.   
  
More than welcome, he said. He hesitated, then decided against trying to strike up any real kind of conversation, despite the fact that he wasn't really sleepy yet.   
  
Did you ... She hesitated, considering her phrasing. Did you have a chance to get that information we were discussing?   
  
He shook his head. Sorry, but I couldn't find anything on it this afternoon. I'll try again in the morning, though. Hojo had been prowling around like a cat in a roomful of rocking chairs, even (in the most un-heard of events) showing up and haranguing him for twenty minutes on something incomprehensible. Under most circumstances, Hojo preferred to forget he existed, and Reeve liked it that way.   
  
Her mouth twisted painfully. Yeah. I know.   
  
Want some leftover pizza? he offered, wanting to do something to ease the strain he could just see in her eyes.   
  
She agreed, and followed him into the kitchen.   
  
  


_ To be continued _   
  



	9. Elena: Can't Be Too Careful of Your Com...

_ This Fragile Life _   
Elena: Can't Be Too Careful with Your Company   


  
  
  
_ Can't be too careful with your company   
I can feel the devil walking next to me _   
; –Chess, One Night in Bangkok   
  
  
  
Elena, cleaning her gun in Reeve's office, looked up at the sound of heels clicking along the corridor outside. A few seconds later, the Secretary of Weapons Development walked into the office, eyes narrowing in visible displeasure when she saw Elena. Scarlet walked across the office turned to face the Turk, and leaned on Reeve's desk as if she owned it.   
  
"And where," Scarlet asked, examining her perfectly manicured nails, "might the Secretary of Urban Development be?"   
  
Elena reloaded her revolver and holstered it, deliberately not standing; the insult made Scarlet's eyes flash a darker shade of blue. "I expect his secretary would know, Scarlet." The file with her medical records was sitting, closed, on the floor behind her; she was rather glad she hadn't been trying to make sense of it when Scarlet arrived.   
  
"And the Turks don't?" Scarlet raised an eyebrow, voice cool. Her left hand dropped to the desk, fingers tapping against the wood.   
  
"When we want him, we'll find him." Reeve was meeting with his maintenance team about problems with the Sector Four reactor; it was Rude's turn to shadow him. She was not going to inflict Scarlet on either of them, and Reno was guarding Rufus.   
  
"And if _ I _ need him?" Tiny frown lines appeared at the corner of Scarlet's angry eyes, and the faintest hint of a frown around her perfectly made-up lips.   
  
Elena shrugged unintimidated; Scarlet might be vicious, but her usual methods of attack were of no use on the Turk. As I said, his secretary undoubtedly knows where he went. If it's particularly urgent, you can try his cell phone.   
  
"Really, Scarlet said, in a disturbingly silky voice. And why might you be here, Elena? I would hardly think Reeve would be of interest to the Turks."   
  
Elena, rather astonished, realized that Scarlet was jealous. _ No reason for it, but who would have thought she could care enough about anything to be jealous? _ She shrugged. You never know who will prove useful.   
  
Scarlet laughed softly, not her usual brittle hard laugh at all, but there was a startling weight of bitterness behind the sound. To _ you _ ? I hardly think so. What use could the Turks possibly have for an engineer? She shrugged one elegant shoulder and stood. Or an engineer for the Turks?   
  
Scarlet swept out of the office, pausing to tell Reeve's secretary to have him call her as soon as he returned. Elena shook her head, amazed at the idea of Scarlet being capable of jealousy (and over Reeve at that); she picked up her file, then hesitated for a moment, thinking that Scarlet was vindictive, persistent and devious, and one of the few people who could manipulate Rufus. And Rufus disliked her already.   
  
It would be her turn to guard him when Reno's shift ended; she checked to make sure she had spare ammo. Guarding Rufus usually frayed her nerves to the point where she went down to the shooting gallery and stayed until she was almost asleep on her feet. Once or twice she _ had _ fallen asleep on her feet; Rude had found her and half-dragged her home. She had no idea why, really; it had been Reno's turn with Rufus, and Rude had been assigned to keep an eye on Reeve that day. Being Rude, he'd never said anything about it. She'd never asked.   
  
She looked at the file and sighed. Tseng would have known what to do; he would have _ done _ something effective about whatever it was Hojo had been doing as soon as he'd heard about it. Tseng would never be there again, she told herself firmly, ignoring the sharp sting in her chest. She opened it again and began trying to make sense of the records.   
  
Reeve returned an hour later, looking tired, Rude a few steps behind him. Rude looked over at her, a question just visible on his face, and she nodded; he gave her a faint quick smile and left her to keep an eye on Reeve. The engineer didn't seem to have enough energy to do anything, except go home to bed; but that wasn't an option for anyone except Rude, who'd been on constant duty (injuries and all) for forty-eight hours.   
  
Reeve, bemused, said something polite to her, no doubt still wondering why the Turks had annexed his office, and dug in to the pile of work on his desk. He did _ not _ call Scarlet, though Elena had heard his secretary give him the message. Not, all things considered, that she blamed him. Instead, he went back to work on his blueprints, with which he could do incomprehensible things for hours on end. At least they were incomprehensible to Elena; she supposed they made sense to _ him. _ She shook her head and went back to the her records, which did not really make any more sense.   
  
No luck, huh? he asked some time later, gesturing at the files. His secretary had left an hour ago, eyeing Elena warily. She didn't approve of her boss hanging around the Turks, or vice versa, but she had enough of a sense of self-preservation not to force the issue.   
  
She shook her head. No. What are you doing? she asked, getting up to peer over his shoulder. The blueprints for one of the reactors rotated on his screen in a wireframe view, various parts of it highlighted with lengthy equations and short incomprehensible notations. She decided the medical records made more sense. Maybe not _ much _ more sense, though.   
  
He shrugged, but tensed up in his chair, probably wondering if this was a trap. Trying to figure out why this particular reactor is acting up. I'll have to take it offline soon.   
  
She frowned; the reactors Avalanche had blown were still offline, and the Sector 7 reactor was probably irreparable.   
  
He tapped the keyboard and brought up a different screen. The problem with Mako reactors is that the energy constantly tries to ground itself, and failing that, to take any available path to more of itself, which is why we have to shield them so heavily. I think, he said, tapping part of the display, that when Avalanche blew the reactors, and when the Sector 7 reactor was destroyed in the crash, that the shocks damaged this reactor, and now the energy is trying to break loose to ground or join with the Mako in the remaining reactors.   
  
What happens if it does? she asked, not quite understanding what he was talking about. She understood about having an electrical ground, but she suspected he was talking about something else.   
  
He sighed. In the worst case, the reactors run completely out of control in a chain reaction and level Midgar. Probably rather quickly, and leave us a pool of Lifestream like what's left of Mideel. If that much.   
  
How likely is that? she asked.   
  
I don't know, he said with a sigh, starting to lean back in his chair then hurriedly leaning forward, remembering she was there; his head would have been about the level of her breasts. Mako is unpredictable. Maybe we'll be lucky, and it will only fry the rest of the reactors instead.   
  
Elena did not like the idea either way.   
  
he said with a sigh, is going to love this.   
  
She nodded. she said. One of the remaining four reactors going offline would probably cause him to explode. God knew everything _ else _ made him blow up of late, from cold coffee to Reno smoking to her sneezing. At least he'd learned the hard way not to physically assault her.   
  
She wondered if Reeve had ever learned to hit back, and went back to her research. She hadn't told Rude or Reno anything yet; she had nothing to tell, really, except that the nurse said Hojo had bribed her physician. And if they weren't careful (and this was Reno's problem, since subtlety wasn't usually his strongest point) Hojo would figure out she was on to him and destroy any records he had.   
  
Reeve swivelled his chair around to look at her. It was not a pitying look, or she would have been angry; it was a sympathetic, rather friendly look. I haven't found anything for you either.   
  
She looked up, realizing that he had been trying to get the information she needed. She'd half-thought he'd forgotten, or decided it was not profitable to him. Is incomprehensibility a required course in medical school?   
  
That and bad handwriting. Though my secretary, I'm sure, would say it is at engineering school too.   
  
Elena didn't need the secretary there to know she would have laughed, or at least smiled, and she thought that Reeve was one of the few Shinra executives with a sense of humor. Scarlet did, but it was cruel, and Heidegger had none at all. She found herself smiling a little at the attempt.   
  
Can I ... give you a hand? he asked, gesturing at the files.   
  
She nodded, and handed him a handwritten note that she'd puzzled out Hojo's name on. It's got something to do with Hojo, but I can't make it out. Can you?   
  
He took it, sat down at his desk and took out a pair of reading glasses. He put them on and peered at the note, frowning as he tried to make out the writing. "Per ... per Hojo's request ... replaced standard implant with modified model XC45D2. ... This next bit's badly smudged. Something about tests and Hojo being pleased." He looked at her over the glasses, disturbed.   
  
"My _ implant _ ? What the hell did it get replaced with?" Every female Shinra soldier was required to have a contraceptive implant for the duration of active service; the implant was put in during basic training, and lasted three years. Shinra loathed paying for parental leave for the military.   
  
"Who makes them?" Reeve took off the reading glasses and turned back to his computer, bringing up a search screen.   
  
"They're located in Junon, but I don't remember the name," she said, getting up to peer over his shoulder again. "What're you doing?" He smelled of some cool sharp faintly herbal cologne.   
  
"Seeing if I can find something about that model," he said, checking the list of Junon companies Shinra did business with. Only one of them made contraceptive implants. He brought up the company screen and searched on the model number, putting his glasses back on to peer at the note. He hit print as soon as the information appeared, handing the sheets to Elena and reading off the screen.   
  
_ Model XC45D2 is the top of our Enceinte line, designed to work in concert with the full program of infertility treatment designed by Dr. Margarethe Stallings. XC45D2 is a two-stage implant, switching stages by hormone detection. The first stage is intended to improve chances of contraception by altering the hormonal environment to ensure both ovulation and successful implantation of an embryo. Once implantation has been achieved, the implant switches to the second stage, intended to prevent spontaneous abortion. Side effects noted have not been severe: dry skin, lethargy, nausea. Contraindications: Heart disease, smoking. _   
"Infertility treatment?" Elena snapped, grabbing the folder and searching through it. Her stomach churned, the nausea from before returning in full strength.   
  
"He was talking about breeding _ Aeris _ ," Reeve said, staring as an image of the implant rotated on his screen. It looked just the same as the standard implant, the one time Elena remembered seeing it on the day before it was first implanted.   
  
He was _ what _ ?" she demanded, repulsed, and clamping her hand over her mouth as her stomach threatened to rebel. She did not like _ any _ of the possibilities that were running through her head.   
  
"When Tseng finally caught Aeris ..." Reeve said, remembering that hideous meeting. "Right before Avalanche broke in to rescue her. Or maybe they'd already gotten in. But Hojo said ... his voice broke, and then he went on. Hojo said she wouldn't live long enough for the research he wanted to do, so he was thinking of breeding her. He glanced up at her reflection, pausing in his typing. Are you all right?   
  
She swallowed hard, the nausea subsiding. Yes. Did he say anything else?   
  
Reeve shook his head. About Aeris? No. But Avalanche got her out not long after that meeting, so I don't know what ... He began tapping keys, and a few heartbeats later, the Science Division's protected database appeared on the screen. Huh. That was too easy. He's probably taken everything useful offline.   
  
"What are - you're not supposed to do that, you know, she said, peering at the screen, interested.   
"I'm not supposed to be evacuating a certain orphanage, either," he retorted. He tapped out requests for Aeris, and then Elena, receiving a warning that the information was limited to Hojo only. He tried several things, and could not get past that warning screen; this database was apparently much better protected. Elena half-leaned on his chair, watching him work, the printouts with their medical jargon in one hand.   
  
Why are you helping me? she asked finally. I can't do anything for you.   
  
Reeve frowned, pausing in his typing. You asked, he said. And besides -   
  
Whatever he had been about to say was cut off by Rude walking into the office. He frowned at Elena, and she stood upright hastily. Reeve spun his chair around to face Rude.   
  
"Elena?" Rude looked tired, as if he'd been awakened suddenly, and sounded considerably less than happy.   
  
"Problem," she said, and then shook her head when he looked at Reeve. "No, not Reeve. _ Hojo _ . "   
  
Emergency meeting with him and Rufus in ten. What's the problem?   
  
"Hojo bribed my doctor to replace my implant," Elena said, handing him the note and the printout. "I don't know what else he may have had done."   
  
Rude read over the material, frowning, a tic starting at the corner of his mouth. I'll deal with him. He handed the papers back.   
  
"Not until I find out what the hell he did to me," Elena replied, returning them to the file and stuffing the folder in her jacket. "Reeve. Can you hack into his computer from his office?"   
  
"Probably," Reeve replied, thinking. "If not, I can search his office for any physical files. If he's going to be in a meeting with you ..."   
  
Rude looked at him dubiously. ...Can you?   
  
Reeve sighed. Yes, I can. Hojo's not as good at computer security as he likes to think, and I can dig through filing cabinets with the best of them. Just buy me time.   
  
Rude said, in tones that suggested he was still not at all certain of the wisdom of this operation. Come on, Elena, he said. She frowned at the stubborn, angry look on his face, and the rapid pace he set, requiring her to almost run to keep up with his longer strides.   
  
Slow down! she demanded. No matter how impatient Rufus is, the elevator's still slow!   
That made him stop altogether; she nearly ran into him. He turned around and grabbed her by the shoulders, giving her a shake. Don't trust Reeve, he said harshly.   
  
What? What are you talking about, Rude? His hands were clenched hard enough on her shoulders to leave bruises, and she tried to shrug free, but he only clenched them harder.   
  
Don't trust him, Rude said angrily, shaking her again. _ We _ would have dealt with Hojo already. _ He _ can't do anything to help you.   
  
Elena shook her head and folded her arms over her chest, thoroughly irritated. Rude, he's already helped. He _ is _ helping. I don't understand what you're talking about.   
  
Rude dropped her shoulders and almost shoved her away, then turned and walked toward the elevator, almost faster than before. Elena stalked after him, wondering what had put him in such a lousy mood. He was the most even-tempered of them all under most circumstances. She shrugged to herself, wincing at sore shoulders, and followed him into the elevator; forty-eight hours on duty tried anyone's patience.   
  


_To Be Continued_


	10. Hojo: Learn Too Much to Ever Understand

_

This Fragile Life

_  
Hojo: Learn Too Much to Ever Understand  
  
  
  
Hojo rubbed the materia in his armlet absently; none of them were particularly useful, and Rufus still had his Manipulate materia. He had not attempted to retrieve it after having Elena assigned to him; Rufus' unpredictable moods made it prudent to take his gains and end the discussion. She had been quite disgusted with the assignment; he had hoped she would be reasonable, but _that_ was certainly not a common Turk character trait.  
  
Even the normally silent Rude had been vocally displeased, and Reno had been tiresomely vulgar. He supposed they might be more of a threat than he had originally considered them. Of course, they knew nothing yet, and by the time they learned anything, he would be the only chance for survival she had. That, of course, assumed he was not her only chance now.  
  
He stepped into the elevator and punched the button for his floor. She was not as good at hiding her emotions as the others, and very nearly radiated disgusted fury. He doubted her attitude would improve without considerable assistance; the Manipulate materia would have this so much easier. He eyed her, not seeing any of the changes that had marked Lucrecia; her face flushed angrily when she noticed his gaze. He would have assumed such an attractive woman was used to men looking at her; she was certainly no innocent.  
  
Her rage hardly mattered at this point, of course, though he would certainly prefer that she did not glower at his back. He considered what tests he would be able to run without excessive repercussions; invasive tests were quite impossible. Even aside from the risk to the experiment, it would be rather difficult to repair invasive damage quickly and thoroughly enough not to be noticed. Assuming he could subdue her long enough, ultrasound was probably the safest option, though it was not likely to be useful this early. He sighed and reminded himself firmly that direct observation was a considerable improvement over the previous situation.  
  
The elevator reached his floor; he left it to walk to his office, the Turk following a few steps behind. It was a pity protocol required the bodyguard to walk behind the person being guarded, but he doubted she would agree to a change in position. Turks were such foolishly stubborn people; Vincent and Tseng both had been utterly impossible. Once they reached his office, Elena stood on the left side of his desk, as far away from him as possible in the relatively small space. He frowned at his desk; his papers were in disorder, and his computer seemed to have been moved.  
  
Has anyone been in my office? he demanded, stalking out to the receptionist's desk.  
No sir, the receptionist said nervously. No one's been here at all. You have several messages.   
  
She was new, and he sighed, thinking about training another one; they never stayed long. He took the sheaf of messages from her, stalked back into his office, and called up the records on his most recently acquired specimens, startled to find his personal database already open.  
  
He had been certain he had logged out before leaving to meet with Rufus; the history list had been cleared, and he rarely bothered doing so. He frowned, calling up more records; whoever had done this knew exactly what they were doing, and had cleared out all the records for the day, leaving him unable to determine what had been viewed. Therefore, Hojo assumed that they had found the records on the current experiment; action would have to be taken. He logged out of the database and looked at his shelves.  
  
His files were in distinct disorder; he liked them precise and neat, arranged just so, and they were now haphazardly stacked and out of order. At least those files held no critical data , though there was certainly some potentially damaging information. He stood and walked over to them; he loathed disorder, and he particularly loathed disorder in his files.  
  
Hojo frowned sharply, considering what reprimand to issue the receptionist for leaving her post. He would have to access the security system shortly to find out who had been in his office; once he knew who to act against, he would know what action to take. He smiled slowly as he realized he could order Elena to discover the intruder's identity.  
  
Is there a problem, Professor Hojo? she asked coolly.  
  
Someone has rifled my office, he said, turning around to face her, still smiling. Bring up the security tapes and see who it was.  
  
Her eyes flashed angrily. What was that?  
  
Bring up the security tapes and find out who was here, he repeated. I assume you are capable of doing so?  
  
Her eyes flashed darkly at the insult, but she sat down at the computer. Soldier training had its useful points. He supposed he could complain about insubordinate behavior, but this was quite ... invigorating. He settled for admiring her profile briefly, then turned back to his files and began to put them in order as she worked. Someone had been very thorough about searching them, but the rifled files pertained to a variety of experiments, none of them of particular importance. He wondered absently if Rufus had sent someone to search his office. No, if Rufus had done so, he would have sent one of the Turks, and they had all been in the office. He heard the sound of rifling paper; presumably she was moving some of the papers out of the way. Or going through the phone messages he had hardly given a glance; he rather hoped that Dr. Glatz had not chosen today to report on her.  
  
"I take it," Elena said, sounding bored, "that Dr. Glatz is quite useful to your experiments."  
  
"Quite," Hojo said absently, sorting through a file that had been thoroughly rifled. "Professionally he's only competent, but certainly use -" He stopped in mid-sentence, painfully aware of how easily he'd fallen into the trap. He turned to face her; she spun in his chair and got gracefully to her feet, one hand resting easily on her hip, the other relaxed by her side. The message slips fluttered to the floor, and he rather thought that he would find Dr. Glatz had called.  
  
"Useful?" she finished. "I imagine so. Now tell me what he was useful for, Professor Hojo."  
  
Her files had recorded in dry prosaic language that she had been in the top 10 in sharpshooter training and the top five in close-combat. He had noted the information and filed it away, never expecting it to matter to him.  
  
It mattered a great deal at the moment.  
  
"What kind of assistance did Dr. Glatz give you, Hojo?" Elena demanded.  
  
"Quite ... valuable assistance," he said, noting the way the angry flush along her cheekbones deepened attractively. "My research would have been quite delayed without it."  
  
"_What research?_" she demanded, hand moving restlessly toward her gun.  
  
"Rufus will not allow you to harm me," he said calmly. Turks were so predictable; Vincent had had a very similar mannerism. Perhaps it had been a product of Turk training. "And even if you do, I am the only person who knows what was being researched and the nature of the experiment." The balked fury in her eyes rather reminded him of Vincent. "Your cooperation will ensure a successful outcome to my research."  
  
"And if I do not ... cooperate?"  
  
Hojo shrugged, not letting his growing excitement show on his face. He had not felt this energized by anything since the beginning of the original Jenova Project. "The research may be somewhat less successful. You will probably die."  
  
"What did you do?"  
"It's much too late to stop it, Elena. There's no reason to tell you anything yet." He decided to tell her a little more; perhaps he could still win her cooperation. "You were the only woman strong enough to survive the experiments. Continuing the treatments will improve your chances; the last one refused them. Rather a pity, really, I couldn't get any useful information from her corpse."  
  
He sorted and stacked his files properly; they had clearly been rifled, but nothing appeared to be missing. He could feel the glare from across the room, and wondered if she would simply decide to take her chances and kill him. He rather hoped not; this was turning out to be the most enjoyable experiment he'd performed since ... since Vincent, really. He heard the faint sound of shifting weight, and cloth against wood; he turned, his files safely back in order, to see her leaning against his bookcases, arms crossed beneath her breasts.  
  
And who might that have been? she asked, hands white-knuckled and lips pressed thin, eyes dark with anger.  
  
He shrugged. No one you would know. It was before your employment. Lucrecia's death had been before Elena's birth, but he preferred not to discuss his age. Much as he loathed admitting the fact, he had aged far worse than Vincent. She was a considerably weaker woman.  
  
She frowned, and he wondered belatedly if Vincent had given his highly-biased and distorted version of events to Avalanche. He decided it would be best to change the topic before any ... uncomfortable ... topics could be broached.  
  
Elena. What did the security system show? he said.  
  
It seems, she said, the outward signs of her fury fading, that the security system malfunctioned, and today's records for your office disappeared. The repair team has been notified.  
  
Hojo, remembering how even the normally silent Rude had spoken at length, had the unpleasant suspicion he had been out-maneuvered.  
  
  
  


_To be continued_


	11. Tifa: Faded Dreams

_

This Fragile Life

_  
Tifa: Faded Dreams  
  
  
  
  
"The Ancients were quite thorough about hiding objects," Vincent said, scanning the radar. "According to Bugenhagen, the key should be somewhere in this vicinity."   
  
Tifa nodded, checking her screens. "Nothing here, Cloud." _First they turned the Black Materia into a Temple, now they hid a key in the ocean. How did they do that? Why didn't they just put the black materia in the ocean? It was small enough no one would ever have found it._  
  
The sub's radio buzzed, startling her out of her musings. They had changed to a non-Shinra channel after they kicked the Shinra troops off outside Costa del Sol; the Highwind's radio was much more powerful, and better suited to monitoring known Shinra channels. Unfortunately, the Turks didn't use any of the known channels, and they still hadn't found the channels they did use.  
  
"Turks got sent down to salvage the Gelnika," Yuffie said, voice crackling and breaking up over the radio. "Just took off from the sub dock."  
  
"Got any idea where they are?"  
  
There was a pause. "Cid says the Gelnika coulda been drug anywhere from Bone Village to Rocket Town. Reno was bitching about wild goose chases. That guy's pretty clueless."  
  
"Thanks, Yuffie, we'll look out for 'em."  
  
Tifa sighed in annoyance. "Guess they did find some more motion-sickness pills for her." Tifa had felt rather ill that morning herself, but the feeling had passed; once Yuffie got sick, she stayed sick without medicine. Sometimes Tifa felt sorry for her, and other times she felt it was exactly what the brat deserved. Yuffie's primary talent besides stealing seemed to be getting under people's skin, and she was very good at it; Cloud and Vincent were the only ones who escaped, mostly because Vincent scared her (not that Yuffie would _ever_ admit it), and Cloud was the only person who could get her to listen to him.  
  
Cloud shrugged, scanning the camera feed. "Told Cid to stop in Bone Village and see if they had any. Guess they did."  
  
"She can't fight when she's sick," Vincent agreed. "Tifa, are there any signs of other subs?"  
  
Tifa had to admit that Yuffie was a ferocious fighter when she wasn't sick. She scanned the surrounding area, glad that the teenager's motion-sickness kept her off the sub. "No, none." She tugged at her waistband, which was curiously tight; it must have shrunk the last time they'd risked hitting a laundromat in Junon.   
  
"All right. Let's find that key."  
  
After another two hours, Tifa was ready to scream. Her nerves were rasped thin by the constant rumble of the engine and the hiss of the ventilation system; the constant whisper of fabric from Vincent's cape as he shifted in his seat made her want to rip it off him, twist it into a rope, and strangle him with it. Instead, she gripped the edge of the radar screen with one hand, tapped the controls with the other, and glowered at the screen. _ find the key and get out find the key and get out find the key and get out find the key and get out - _  
  
"Cloud. There's something to port," Vincent said, the suddenness of it making her jump. "There's a break in the wall large enough for the sub."  
  
The sub just squeezed through the break, which opened onto a long, winding tunnel. At points it was so narrow that the sub almost scraped the walls, and the ceiling low enough that Tifa was entertaining slightly panicked thoughts of being trapped, tons of water and stone surrounding them, and the air giving out, because of course it wasn't meant to last for more than a few hours. She hoped her sigh of relief when they broke into a large, high-ceilinged chamber was not audible. It wasn't as dark in here, either; somewhere above there must be a break light could shine down. She scanned the area, and her instrument panel began to chime.  
  
Cloud! We've got something! Vincent began scanning, and they swept the area, narrowing the search until they found an object in the corner of the cavern.  
  
...estimated to be several thousand years old.  
  
The Key of the Ancients ... Cloud murmured, manipulating the sub's claw carefully to free the Key from centuries of debris and sand. He worked it free and brought it aboard. Vincent retrieved it from the cargo hold while Cloud turned the sub to maneuver back out of the cavern. The Key was huge, almost four feet long, of dull grey stone with strange projections all the way around it and, by the way Vincent set it down, extremely heavy.  
  
"OK, let's head back to the City, Cloud said, as they traveled the corridor again. Highwind, come in."  
  
"&^%^#%#! Don't touch that! Cloud! You got it?"  
  
"We got it," Cloud said. Tifa suppressed an annoyed sigh when she heard Yuffie complaining in the background. The last thing she wanted to do was mediate between them again. "We're heading back, meet us there. Anything new on the Turks?"  
  
"Still can't find the #$#@% frequency. Don't talk enough to catch them."  
  
"Right. Sub out."  
  
They had made it almost halfway to the nearest port when the proximity alarms went off. Vincent's screen showed something large briefly, then something small darting across the screen. There was something else with an unusual resonance pattern appearing to port on Tifa's screen.  
  
"There's another sub," Vincent reported. "I believe that's the Gelnika to port."  
  
Tifa nodded. "That's it. Cloud, torpedoes fired from the other sub!"  
  
"Damn! Hold on!" The sub groaned, metal stressed from the tight maneuvers Cloud put it through trying to avoid the torpedoes. "Returning fire!"  
  
The other sub dove and rolled through evasive maneuvers, and the torpedoes skimmed past it to slam into the sea wall. It fired again, and the sub shuddered and groaned as Cloud forced it into another round of evasive maneuvers. The emergency lights on the control panel began going off, and Cloud swore softly.  
  
We blew a bulkhead, he said, as the torpedoes exploded well behind them. Let's get out of here.  
  
"What did they hit?" Tifa asked, frowning, checking her radar. "That's all clear water there."  
  
"There's something out there," Vincent contradicted. "It's huge, whatever it is."  
  
The water roiled and rocked both subs and there was a deafening howl of static from the radio.  
  
"It's moving!" Vincent said. "It's coming straight for us at ..."  
  
"It's a Weapon!" Cloud shouted, as the outline of the thing appeared on the cameras. "We're going down! We might be able to hide on the seabed!"  
  
Weapon swept past them, sending the sub tumbling end over end in its wake; Tifa grabbed onto her chair and felt her legs connect painfully with something as she fell. Vincent swore under his breath and shoved her legs away; Cloud grunted and pulled himself back onto his chair to get at the controls.  
  
"Cloud, can't we outrun it?" Tifa asked, scrambling back into her chair as the sub righted itself.  
  
"It's too fast! This time they had enough warning to grab onto their chairs; Weapon swept past them again with a terrible screech of metal on metal as it just barely scraped the hull, and the sub flipped over, tumbling in the wake of Weapon's passing. "Highwind! We got problems!"  
  
"What's going on?" Yuffie demanded, hearing the groaning of the sub.  
  
"Weapon! Shit! Vincent - "  
  
"I see it!"  
  
"Tell Cid he's gonna have to steal another sub at this rate! We can't get a fix on it long enough to fire a torpedo!"  
  
"We can't track you- " the radio cut out as Weapon roared again, sending a blast of deafening static.  
  
Highwind! Yuffie, do you read? Cloud slammed a fist down on the radio. Shit. It's dead.  
  
"Cloud! It's ignoring the Gelnika. If we can get in it - if it's airtight still - "  
  
"I hear you! Vincent, get the key!"  
  
Cloud dove for the seaplane in the brief interval when Weapon was distracted by the other sub, extending the sub's portal. Shinra had originally intended it to be used to exchange crews undersea, without needing to dock or surface; but it served quite well to get them down on the Gelnika. Tifa jumped down as the portal began to shake with the approach of Weapon, and slammed the hatch shut just as the portal ripped free.  
  
"Whew, we made it," she said, splashing through the small puddle at the bottom of the ladder.  
  
Cloud nodded. "Let's see if we can find a working radio," he said. "Tell Cid what happened."  
  
Vincent shook his head dubiously, looking around. "The cockpit was flooded. These cargo areas were better sealed."  
  
"Maybe the cockpit took the brunt of the Weapon attack," Tifa said. "We might as well look, we're stuck here for now." There was another sound beneath the steady drip of water; a chittering sound, and a sound of scales sliding across metal, and a low hissing sound that made the hair on the back of her neck rise. She realized the others heard it too, as Cloud drew his sword and Vincent his pistol.  
  
The thing that dropped suddenly from the ceiling was a hideous mockery of Leviathan with dull reflective scales that had hidden it against the metal walls. It hissed, drawing scaly flesh back to reveal a mouth full of fangs, and spit a stream of stinking, burning liquid at Vincent.  
  
Tifa dodged its lashing tail and punched it; the only obvious result was a sore fist. "What is this thing?"  
  
"I suspect Hojo had something to do with it," Vincent said, aiming. He fired and hit the creature high on the neck; it made a hideous sound somewhere between a serpentine hiss and a cat's yowl, and some green-tinged gray blood spurted from the wound. The blood smoked where it hit the floor.  
  
Tifa nodded and dodged the tail again as she reached with her mind for the fire materia in her armlet. The power spun just out of her mental reach, sliding away as she tried to catch it; it had been harder and harder lately to touch it. Like trying to grab water, she thought, and the power flowed into her just as the thing spit at her, soaking her through. Her skin burned instantly, screaming angry blisters rising everywhere, some of the vile liquid slipping into her mouth and down her throat.  
  
The power burst out with her scream, raw and uncontrolled, worse than the very first time she'd touched materia. The creature shrieked as the fire surrounded it, and Tifa realized dimly that she couldn't stop the power now, that it was not going to answer to her again. It was the nature of fire to burn, and freed, it would burn until there was nothing left.  
  
The rush of water was a relief, even with breathing it in and choking on it; the fire weakened with the first hit, and the second, and on the third, she managed to break its hold and stop it. She collapsed to her knees and coughed up water, as the creature thrashed wildly, shrieking loudly enough to deafen them all. With the additional noise of Vincent's revolver, it shouldn't have been surprising that they didn't hear anything else.  
  
Tifa almost choked again when the blue-clad legs stepped in front of her, and another pair went past her. The small space echoed with gunfire again, much too much for it to be only Vincent shooting, and, coughing the last of the water from her lungs, she looked up to realize that Rude was standing front of her and Reno had taken her place in the fight.  
  
The creature let out another hideous howl and collapsed. Cloud slashed its head again to be sure it was dead, then turned to look at Reno.  
  
"We just keep running into each other, don't we?" Reno said dryly.  
  
"Guess you had the same idea we did," Cloud said, sword still held at the ready. Vincent's pistol was trained on Reno.  
  
Rude hauled her to her feet. "Tifa. Are you all right?"  
  
She nodded, then stepped quickly away from him, pulling a potion from her pocket; she drank it quickly, and the blisters in her mouth and throat went away in a wash of blessed smooth cool liquid. She felt Cloud catch her wrist and draw her back behind him, and for once she didn't protest. Rude and Reno shifted position to stand together, Reno tapping his nightstick on his shoulder and Rude's fists up.  
  
Reno shrugged. Beats getting smashed into the sea floor. Even if it means we are stuck with you.  
  
You're short one, Cloud said, ignoring the rest of Reno's commentary.  
  
Mind your own business, Strife, Rude snapped, eyes narrowing just slightly in what Tifa, at least, could clearly read as anger.  
  
Vincent frowned. he said. There are undoubtedly more of those creatures here. I suggest we pool our resources in order to survive.  
  
Cloud nodded slowly. Yeah. Hojo make   
  
Who else would come up with something that disgusting? Reno replied. He considered and finally said, I suppose we can work together for now. But it doesn't mean I like you.  
  
Since we don't like you, that's just fine, Cloud replied, sheathing his sword.  
  
Tifa suppressed a sigh; it would almost have been a better idea to let them beat each other to a pulp. But Vincent was right; those creatures were too tough to take on alone. Listening to Cloud and Reno snipe at each other, though, was just going to rip her remaining nerves to shreds.  
  
Reno slung his nightstick back over his shoulder. Well, good, we understand each other.  
  
Rude sighed, dropping his fists to his side. Reno. Strife. The reactor room there, he said, pointing at a door that was only partly off its hinges, should be defensible.  
  
Right. Let's clear it out.  
  
That took them a few hours, after which Cloud and Rude hauled the bodies out and dumped them in a hallway. Vincent and Reno fixed the door, Tifa checking the rest of the room to be sure they'd gotten everything. We're clear.  
  
Cloud said, considering. I'll take first watch.  
  
Reno sprawled impossibly across the floor, looking unnaturally comfortable, and promptly fell asleep. Tifa sat down and leaned back against the wall, ignoring the steady ache in her back. Vincent settled against the wall next to her, sitting with his hand resting on the butt of his gun. She closed her eyes and dozed off as Cloud took up a sentry position facing Rude._  
  
She'd known Rude had been lying to her about what he was doing. Ordinary jobs didn't mean coming home beat-up and wanting her enough they rarely made it to the bedroom. Ordinary jobs didn't get called up at random hours. And they definitely did not involve someone banging on the door at two in the morning. Rude had muttered something obscene, grabbed his robe, and stomped out to answer it; she had been drifting back into sleep until she'd heard him talking.  
  
"Dammit, Reno, I told you not to come here."  
  
"Whatsamatter, Rude? Fraid your girl's gonna dump you when she gets a look at me?" The voice was drawling and cheerful, slightly drunk. It was also familiar.  
  
"Reno."  
  
"Not my fault you were too busy to answer the phone," Reno leered. At least, Tifa was reasonably sure that was what he was doing from the tone of his voice. "Tseng says something's up, gotta come in to work."  
  
"Fine. Give me a minute."  
  
Rude stalked back into the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him. "Gotta go. Be back in a few hours," he said, kissing her lightly. He pulled on his clothes and left, saying something irate at Reno.  
  
Reno. The redhead who'd been trying to get one of her fellow barmaids to go home with him after her shift that night. Reno, the newest of the Turks.  
  
Tifa hadn't been there whenever Rude had come home; she'd taken her things and her stash of gil, and left.  
  
She hadn't left a note.  
  
_Tifa wasn't sure whether it was Vincent or the angry female voice that woke her. _Huh? Yuffie?_ She scrambled gracelessly to her feet and rushed out into the main corridor, just behind Vincent; Rude had already disappeared.  
  
They got out just in time to see Cloud step in front of an upset Yuffie and punch Reno in the nose. Reno's nightstick was about three feet away from him and there was fresh blood on his arm; Yuffie must have hit him herself. Rude was standing to one side with his arms crossed, face set and expressionless.  
  
Reno clapped a hand to his bloody nose and glared at Cloud. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully and he smirked. "Gee, Strife, never figured you for a -"  
  
Cloud raised his fist again, eyes glowing with anger more than Mako. Yuffie had her shuriken ready, but didn't seem inclined to get out from behind Cloud and confront Reno again.  
  
"Shut up, Reno," Rude said. "This is business. Don't make it personal."  
  
Reno glared at Rude and opened his mouth. Rude glared back, and Reno shut up, retrieved his nightstick, and settled for glaring at Cloud.  
  
"Yuffie. Go on up," Cloud said. "We'll be right behind you."  
  
Yuffie clambered quickly up the ladder without a word. Cloud glowered at Reno until the Turk looked away. Tifa sighed, and guessed that Reno had probably grabbed Yuffie's rear or done something else she didn't appreciate. Cloud, being the macho jerk he sometimes was, had decided to take care of it himself, instead of making Yuffie deal with it.  
  
"Let's go. Tifa."  
  
Tifa, carefully not looking at Rude, climbed the ladder. She heard Rude say something to Cloud, but couldn't make out what it was. Vincent followed her up the ladder into the sub, and then Cloud clambered up.  
  
Tifa gritted her teeth as Cloud dropped his hand reassuringly on Yuffie's shoulder. The brat gulped and stood up a little straighter.  
  
Let's get back to the City, Cloud said. We've got work to do.  
  


_To Be Continued_


	12. Hojo: The Goddess of Your Sacrifice Has...

  
  
  


_ This Fragile Life _   
Hojo: The Goddess of Your Sacrifice has Flown Away   


  
  
  
  
Hojo walked over to his desk, ignoring the Turk glaring at him from the other side of the room. The last few days had been quite unpleasant, and her attitude had grown worse; not for the first time, he wished that Rufus had returned his Manipulate materia. At least he had her available for examination and treatments; she appeared to be suffering from particularly severe nausea, worse than Lucrecia had endured. The Mako treatments were quite effectively reducing that problem, with less danger to his results than the available drugs. The treatment had, however, had the usual effect on her eyes; they shone gold now, a warm burnished color somewhat darker than command materia, and he found the effect peculiarly unnerving. It was merely a side effect of the Mako treatment, he reminded himself firmly, but he still could not meet her angry eyes.   
  
Mako. Sephiroth was out there, somewhere, planning to absorb all the Mako the Planet gathered and . . . he shook his head. Nonsense. Whatever, precisely, Sephiroth was doing, it had nothing to do with superstitious nonsense about sentient planets and souls. If he continued thinking like this, he would end up endlessly discoursing on sin like Vincent. Perhaps he should have just killed him, but using him to prove Lucrecia's own theories about summons had seem perfectly apt at the time, and the experiment had given him invaluable data. He shook his again to focus his wandering thoughts; he had experiments to record, data to examine, and no time for useless maundering.   
  
He spun his chair around to sit, then noticed a strand of something in the fabric. He plucked it dextrously, expecting it to be perhaps one of Elena's hairs, or his own. It was cat hair. _ Cat hair. _ He had not allowed a cat anywhere near his laboratory or his office since before Lucrecia's death. The wretched things shed constantly, ruined experiments and attacked at the slightest of provocations.   
  
He frowned. There were no cats running loose in the Shinra building since the failure had killed Rufus' pet, and this was clearly from an ordinary domestic cat. There was, really, only one person with a fondness for cats who would have been in his office. He was rather astonished that Reeve had been bold enough to break into his computer and rifle his files; the engineer had always seemed rather mild-natured, certainly not the type to take considerable risk. Apparently he had underestimated him. Something would have to be done before Reeve did anything damaging with the data he had stolen. Perhaps this would finally force Rufus to deal effectively with him; Hojo did not understand why Rufus had not taken measures previously.   
  
He called the President's secretary and requested an emergency meeting, informing her that he had urgent information for him. The Turk, though she had not moved, was radiating fury; he supposed she had induced or intimidated Reeve into assisting her. He frowned, waiting for the secretary to return; Dr. Glatz had said something . . . yes, Reeve had been accompanying her the day she received the first Mako treatment. He sighed, hoping this would not skew his results. First Lucrecia, now Elena; he would never understand women.   
  
The secretary returned to the line and informed him that Rufus was willing to see him for a very short time; Hojo hastened out of his office to the 70 th floor with Elena following him; he ordered her to remain outside. He heard Rufus order Reno out when he arrived; the red-haired Turk slouched against the wall next to Elena and offered her a cigarette as Hojo walked up the stairs.   
  
Rufus stood at the back of his office, looking out the windows over Midgar. His hands were shoved into his coat pockets, his hair unusually disheveled; the hem of his coat moved in the faint breeze from the air-conditioning vents. He moved slightly at the sound of Hojo's footsteps, straightening with an annoyed shrug of his shoulders.   
  
There was music playing somewhere, a soft, sad piano piece Hojo recognized; he had forgotten the title, something to do with rain. But it had been one of Lucrecia's favorite pieces; she had played her recording of it often before her death. She had been fond of another piece by that composer, but he could not remember it now.   
  
"What do you want, Hojo?" Rufus' voice was flat and even, making it impossible to predict his mood.   
  
"Reeve has broken into my database," Hojo said, snapping out of the unaccustomed reverie. "I believe he's giving information to Avalanche."   
  
Rufus was still, the only movement the faint drifting of his coat. "What makes you think so, Hojo?   
  
"He did not clean up after himself as well as he thought," Hojo replied. He loathed cats, and the feeling was distinctly mutual. "I found several pieces of evidence. And as for Avalanche - Reeve is the only one who will defy orders."   
  
Rufus said nothing for a moment, then asked in a soft, even voice, "What do you think he stole?"   
  
Hojo resisted the urge to smile. "I cannot say for certain, but I expect that all my data on that failed experiment . . . "   
  
"Strife," Rufus said, making a sharp gesture, annoyance plain in his voice. "Cloud Strife."   
  
"Yes. That data will have been compromised, and possibly data on some other experiments." Hojo shrugged slightly. "If he has gone to that length, I presume he may have - " The piano piece ended and a flute began a mournful melody.   
  
Rufus raised his hand, his voice turning icy. "That's enough, Hojo. I know exactly what you're implying." He let his hand fall back to his side. "Get out."   
  
Hojo turned and hurried out. Rufus, he was sure, would deal quite effectively with Reeve. Elena and Reno broke off their discussion when he returned, and Elena followed him back to his office.   
  
  


* * * * * *   


  
  
Hojo watched dispassionately as the spell took effect. Elena, already immobilized by the Stop spell he'd cast a few seconds ago, slumped slightly, eyes closing; he did not wish to have those unnerving golden eyes watching him during the tests. He removed the prepared instruments from the cabinet and set up the machine. This would have been easier if he could have convinced her to lie down on the table, but that had been so clearly impossible he had not bothered attempting it; after he had spoken to Rufus about Reeve three days ago, she had barely managed even a pretense of civility. He unbuttoned her jacket, yanked her blouse out of her trousers and unbuttoned it, and shoved both jacket and blouse back on her shoulders and partway down her arms.   
  
He attached the leads over her abdomen, flipped the switch on the machine, and began the test. Goosebumps rose on the Turk's skin; the spell held her too immobile to shiver. Normally he would enjoy this, but now it seemed quite a futile effort, spitting in the face of Death. He had not thought of that saying since his college days, and that was further in the past than he cared to contemplate. The machine beeped, indicating the end of the first test; he attached the leads over her torso for the second test, unhooking her blue lace bra to get it out of the way. He wondered, hand dropping to the waistband of her trousers and fingers curling over the smooth skin of her abdomen, whether she wore anything to match. He hesitated, then regretfully pulled his hand away, turned back to the machine and collected its report before looking back at her. Careful treatment with curative materia had prevented any of the injuries she'd received in the jungle from scarring; it would have been rather disappointing to see her marred.   
  
That sort of healing was one of the more unusual properties of materia. Materia, condensed Mako, called Lifestream by some. He'd dismissed it as a superstitious, unscientific name for a perfectly natural phenomenon; none of that nonsense about souls, merely an unusual energy source no one had properly categorized yet. It induced hallucinations, facilitated healing at a rapid rate, and had other unusual effects, but there was nothing magical about it.   
  
Sephiroth had proven him wrong. Sephiroth had maintained a silent belief in magic from his childhood, when some wretched nurse had smuggled in books of fairy tales and legends and other such garbage. It had polluted his mind with talking animals, sorceresses, and other ridiculous things, despite Hojo's every effort to install rational thought; indeed, the boy had seemed to cling harder to the stories for his efforts. And now Sephiroth had proven it, Lifestream and Planet and all, and was trying to turn himself into a god.   
  
He arranged the leads over her abdomen again for the last test, and began taking blood samples. This was science still, and this would go on even if that failed experiment and his freak show managed to kill Sephiroth. He had not intended this to be his . . . legacy, but fate (something else he had disavowed as unscientific) apparently had other plans. It was unfortunate that he would probably never get to see the results. If Avalanche won, they would kill him; if they lost, he would die with everyone else.   
  
He put the blood samples in a second machine for analysis and looked at the printouts from the first, scribbling notes on the reports as he read. Everything was proceeding well, even better than it had with Lucrecia. It was a pity he'd never found anyone to match her in scientific aptitude, although this girl was certainly superior to her in most other respects. Rather uneducated, but given Shinra's preference for easily molded child-soldiers, that was hardly surprising. The blood tests confirmed the splendid success of the experiment, and recorded something unusual in her blood, most likely a reaction to the Mako treatments.   
  
He picked up his last Jenova sample and a sample tube of distilled Mako, looking at them thoughtfully. Sephiroth wanted Mako, did he?   
  
Hojo would give him all the Mako he wanted, and show him that science wasn't going down with a fight.   
  
  


_ To Be Continued _   


  
  
[Author's notes: this chapter overlaps slightly with the previous one and considerably with the next one; more information with the next chapter.]   



	13. Reeve: Tell Me, Can You Ease the Pain?

_

This Fragile Life

_  
Reeve: Tell Me, Can You Ease the Pain?  
  
  
Reeve knocked on the door, feeling sharp eyes on him; he hoped it was only the local punks, and not the other Turks. Elena had never said whether she'd discussed this evacuation plan with them, and he'd rather not find out she hadn't at the wrong end of Reno's nightstick.  
  
"Yes, what is it? Oh, Mr. Reeve. We didn't expect you this late," Sister Guadalupe said, stepping aside to let him into the foyer. It smelled of soap and polish, and the worn wood shone faintly in the soft light.  
  
"The way things are going, it was the only time I could get here," he explained. "I hope it's not an inconvenience. Mother Superior called me."  
  
She nodded. "Do sit down, and I'll see if she's free." He sat down, and Sister Guadalupe hurried off.  
  
Reeve absently scanned the shelves, smiling as he recognized titles. His mother had eventually threatened to throw out their copy of Puss in Boots; he'd hidden the book in retaliation, and, unable to find it, she'd given in and bought him a new copy. He still had both of them, somewhere in his apartment. The orphanage's collection was surprisingly eclectic, probably acquired at library sales or from donations, and very heavily read; maybe he could find some money to replace the ones that were about to fall apart.  
  
The titles reminded him of his own childhood; his grandmother had told him Wutai folk-tales every night, much to his mother's aggravation; his grandmother's stories had been full of demons and fighting and had given him vivid nightmares. He stood up again to look through the shelves, flipping through books at random. His mother had threatened to throw away _Mustadio and the Strange Machine_ too, but he hadn't managed to scam another copy from her. His sisters had loved _The Sorceress's Garden_, especially the part where the heroine's brother got turned into a toad. Floorboards creaked and he looked up, expecting Sister Guadalupe; he put the copy of _Jake the Lucky Chocobo_ back on the shelf in time to see a little boy in much-patched pajamas two sizes too large sneak into the room.  
  
The little boy, blue eyes still sleepy and black hair mussed, tipped his head up to look at Reeve. You're Elena's friend? he asked, blinking up at Reeve in confusion.  
  
Reeve nodded. "I'm Reeve. Your name is Sergio, right?"  
  
Sergio beamed. "Yeah! How come you're here? Neve had to work and Sister says Alejandro only shows up when he feels like it." He tiptoed over to the bookcase to stand next to Reeve.  
  
"I need to talk to Mother Superior. Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"  
  
Sergio frowned, looking absurdly serious for such a little boy. "Uhm, I woke up and I'm not tired anymore." He promptly yawned. "You like stories too?" He peered at the bookcase. "My favorite story is _Mustadio and the Strange Machine_ but Sister put it up on the top shelf and I can't get it down anymore."  
  
"I liked that one when I was a kid," Reeve replied, picking the book off the shelf, and wondering when Sister Guadalupe was going to come back.  
  
Sergio took the book and hugged it to his chest, eyes wide. "Really?"  
  
"Yes. My favorite was _Puss in Boots_," Reeve said, and heard another set of footprints. Sister Guadalupe came back and shook her head.  
  
"Sergio! What are you doing up?"  
  
"I woke up! I'm not tired, Sister, let me stay up? Please?"  
  
"No, back to bed with you, Sergio!" the Sister said. "It's too late for you to be up. I'm sorry, Mr. Reeve, I'll be right back." She caught Sergio firmly by the shoulder, and dragged him (book clutched firmly to his chest) back to wherever the children slept. She returned a few minutes later, shaking her head. "It's almost time for evening service, so I'm afraid you'll have to be quick."  
  
"That's fine," he said. "Sergio seems like a handful."  
  
"That child is two hands full," Sister Guadalupe said, smiling with affectionate exasperation. Please come with me.  
  
The way up to Mother Superior's office was much shorter this time; Sergio had apparently taken them up the long way the last time. A young nun was leaving the office as they arrived, looking terribly upset.  
  
Sister Guadalupe shook her head at the nun, then entered the office. Mother Superior, Mr. Reeve to see you.  
  
Thank you, Sister. There isn't much time, Mr. Reeve, so shall we go directly to business? Sister Guadalupe closed the door as she left.  
  
Yes. I take it you reached a decision?  
  
She nodded. We would have informed you sooner, but we were making our own preparations for the evacuation. Our Chapterhouses in the rest of the world are ready to assist.  
  
Reeve said, relieved. He would not have been able to do this on his own, or at least not effectively. My people are ready. What do you need?  
  
Keys to the slums and freedom to move, Mother Superior said.   
  
Reeve pulled a much-folded piece of paper from his pocket. I'll get the keys to you tomorrow. These people have agreed to help arrange transportation. I'll see what I can do about freedom to move. Elena had mentioned knowing people over in Soldier; if they were in the right places, that would help. Even if they weren't, they might know who could.  
  
Thank you. We will make our plans after evening service, she said.  
  
Reeve took the hint and stood. Call me if you need any further assistance. If nothing else, Elena will be able to get hold of me.  
  
Sister Guadalupe showed him out. The other nuns, walking solemnly to evening service to the sound of whispering cloth and clacking rosaries, watched him curiously as he left. The punks were out, and he was relieved to reach the Shinra elevator to the plate without incident, and hurried quickly home.  
  
Elena was sitting in his chair again, a tumbler of something on the table next to her and her gun in her hand. His cat was curled up happily on her lap, purring loudly enough to be heard over the jazz playing on his stereo. He sighed; his cat was merely being a cat, and getting attention wherever she could. It would probably purr at Scarlet if she petted her; Reeve, however, would prefer that Scarlet never set foot in his apartment.  
  
You're going to have some explaining to do in the morning, Elena said, tucking her gun back into her jacket. Rufus was looking for you an hour ago.  
  
Reeve sighed. How angry was he?  
  
Reno didn't say anything for more than an hour, she replied.  
  
I've met my insurance deductible for the year, he said, and contemplated whether he'd updated his will lately. Then again, he didn't have anyone to leave his possessions to other than his cat and his family, who wouldn't particularly want most of them. The nuns have an evacuation plan set up, but they need help getting to move around without getting hassled.  
  
she said quietly. I'll see what I can do about the military. I'll send someone up to get the keys tomorrow.  
  
The tabby cat jumped off her lap and ran over to Reeve, meowing demandingly and rubbing against his ankles. All right, I'll feed you.  
  
Me or the cat? Elena asked, rising to her feet and stretching distractingly.  
  
He shrugged, carefully not looking anywhere he shouldn't, and followed the cat into the kitchen. What, you want cat food? I don't think there's much of anything else in the house.  
  
Keeping food in the house doesn't seem to be your strong point, she remarked, leaning against the doorframe. He opened a can of cat food, plopped the contents on a somewhat battered plate, and put it down, then picked up the water dish and filled it with fresh water.  
  
I usually eat alone, he said, putting the water dish back down. Easier to order pizza or pick up take-out than cook for one person.  
  
she said. Depressing to eat alone all the time.  
  
I guess I'm used to it, he replied, rooting through the refrigerator. He gave up, poked through some cabinets, and sighed, wishing he'd thought to get some take-out for dinner. I haven't roomed with anyone in years.  
  
I don't know why, she said, leaving the doorframe to stand much closer to him than she usually did, close enough he could almost feel her warmth. You certainly don't have to be alone.  
  
Reeve blinked at her, startled, and said, Well, I ...  
  
I don't want to be alone tonight, she said, moving close enough to touch. He found himself looking into eyes the color of summer sunlight as she brushed her fingers over his cheek and kissed him. He kissed back, somewhat awkwardly and tentatively, a light brush over her lips; her hand slid around to the back of his head as she kissed him more firmly, leaning up against him. She smelled faintly of something herbal, sharp and sweet, and tasted of something spicy.  
  
He pulled away, hands shaking a bit, and wondered why she wanted him, when she could have had almost anyone. Hurt flickered across her face, Mako-eyes darkening to burnished gold, as she twisted her hands together behind her back. Elena, I ...   
  
She turned away from him and started to walk back to the living room. I'm not Scarlet, she said. He wondered if he was imagining the rough edge to her voice. I just ... just wanted to not be alone for one night. I thought ... you might not want to be alone either.  
  
He reached out and caught her by the shoulder. Elena. Wait.  
  
She turned back, looking at him for a long moment. Her eyes brightened to hot sunlit gold, and she stepped back into his arms and tipped her head up to kiss him. Reeve returned the kiss with no hesitation this time, and found he had nothing coherent to say for the rest of the night.  
  
He woke up slowly, later than usual, with less of a frantic sense of things undone and imminent chaos. The other side of the bed was empty, but not quite cool, and he could still smell her scent on the sheets and on his skin. He sat up and ran his hands through his disheveled hair, which did nothing to tidy it; he looked down at himself and blushed at the marks on his skin. His last lover hadn't been remotely that ... aggressive.  
  
The sound of female voices - one cool, one angry - snapped him out of his reverie, and he remembered belatedly that Cameron had said she'd be by last night with the data on the Junon reactor. _She's going to be furious_, he thought, scrabbling hastily for sweatpants and sweatshirt. He ran his hand through his hair again, still not tidying it, and hurried into the living room. Elena, dressed with her hair combed and looking unflappable, was pointing her revolver at Cameron, who was, indeed, furious.  
  
Reeve! Who is this ... person? she demanded. Cameron was his age, with blunt-cut short brown hair and sharp brown eyes behind thick glasses; her suit was much less expensive and stylish than Elena's.  
  
Uh, Elena, that's really not necessary, he said with a shake of his head, his hair flopping in his eyes because he hadn't taken the time to pull it back. Elena frowned at him, but pulled her gun up away from Cameron. Cameron, you could have just stopped in my office this morning.  
  
Cameron shook her head as Elena holstered her gun. I've got to catch the 7:30 back to Junon. Here's your data. She shoved an huge, overstuffed envelope at him, then stalked out of the apartment, pointedly not slamming the door behind her.  
  
He sighed. It was definitely going to be one of those days; he could just guess that half his staff would have decided to quit and leave Midgar (which was not a bad idea), the other half would effectively not be getting anything done, and Rude would be glowering at him worse than usual. Rude, for reasons Reeve had never quite figured out, seemed to actively dislike him.  
  
Who was that? Elena demanded, dragging him back to the moment. She sounded distinctly annoyed as she holstered the revolver.  
  
Cameron Trieze. Chief Engineer over at Junon, he said, looking at the envelope in aggravation. He hoped Cameron had at least remembered an analysis of the data, and not just handed him raw data. She was supposed to bring me these reports on the Junon reactor.  
  
Why does she have a key?  
  
He blinked, then blushed. She used to stay here when she got sent to Midgar. I never got around to getting the key back.  
  
Elena quirked an eyebrow. Your Chief Engineer in Junon used to stay here?  
  
Well, it was before my promotion to Assistant Secretary, he said defensively. Back when I was still Chief Engineer in Midgar. Must have been, oh, five years ago ... And even then Cameron had been more likely to sleep on the couch than in his bed; she'd had other boyfriends then and now.  
  
And you never got the key back. She shook her head. You are a nightmare for security.  
  
Well, it's not like anyone usually bothers with me.  
  
Elena pressed him against the wall before he could react. She brushed her lips lightly over his and said, _That_ is always subject to change. She backed off and turned to his coffee maker.  
  
Reeve, blushing furiously, fled for his bathroom, only then realizing he'd put on his sweatshirt inside out. Life had been less complicated yesterday, but he wasn't sure he wanted it less complicated. He turned on the shower, relieved to find out that there was, in fact, hot water this morning; even at this hour, two or three times a week there would be no hot water in the shower.  
  
He heard the door open again while he was in the shower, Rude's rumbling voice speaking to Elena, and then the door closed again; no doubt Elena was now headed off to protect Hojo. Rude had practically radiated rage the day Rufus had reassigned her to that duty; Reeve understood and rather agreed with him, though he didn't think he had any right be angry about it. The assignment was probably payback for punching Rufus; there was no one to replace her, and since all her living expenses were most likely paid by the company, docking her pay wasn't very useful.  
  
He got out of the shower, trimmed his beard, dressed and headed for the kitchen. The tabby cat purred and wound around his ankles as he opened a can of cat food and dumped it on a plate. Rude, drinking a cup of coffee (Reeve's coffeemaker was set to have a fresh pot ready at the time he usually woke up), glowered at both of them. The cat, intent on breakfast, ignored him; Reeve, who had to get around Rude to get at the coffee, didn't have that luxury.  
  
Er, morning, Rude, he said, fishing a mug out of the dishwasher. Excuse me.  
  
Rude glared, then shrugged and stepped away from the coffee machine. Reeve poured the last of the coffee into his mug and added a dose of cream. It was, he discovered, exceedingly difficult to enjoy a cup of coffee when Rude was standing against the wall nearby radiating hostility.  
  
You're late, Rude snapped.  
  
Reeve blinked. Late? Not yet, I should still make it in at the usual time, he said, peering at the clock. Even I oversleep sometimes. His cat meowed in vehement agreement.  
  
Being late with your breakfast is not a mortal sin, Terra, he told her.  
  
Terra hissed in disagreement and stalked out of the room. Reeve sighed.  
  
Rude shook his head. Come on. The President is not happy with you.  
  
Reeve finished his coffee and resisted the urge to mutter something unwise in response to that. He grabbed his keys, his wallet, and the kit with Cait's microphone and control. Fine. Let's go.  
  
Reeve got himself another cup of coffee, and found that drinking it while reading the night's accumulation of e-mail was not a wise idea. Cameron had never been one to mince words.  
  
An MP arrived before lunch, stating he'd been sent to collect a package. Reeve saw the small rose-cross around his neck and handed him the box with the keys, wondering how many of the orphanage's children had ended up in Shinra's army over the years.  
  
Thank you, sir. The MP saluted crisply and left; if he wasn't the right person, he was very new on the job. Few people bothered saluting him more than perfunctorily.  
  
Reeve turned back to his computer and found another email from Cameron; he shook his head. Cameron was never going to let this lie. The delivery-boy from the restaurant arrived with his lunch; Reeve shoved the paperwork out of the way long enough to eat (Rufus, in particular, got quite irate at chili sauce on his reports).  
  
It was, by early afternoon, almost a relief when Rufus summoned him for a meeting; he sent Cameron a final e-mail telling her he was going to be unavailable. He reached the 70th floor and walked up the stairs to the President's office; Reno, on his way down, just shook his head. Reeve reminded himself firmly that he had the best insurance available, though he doubted being Rufus' personal punching bag was technically covered. The insurance company had learned not to bother with technicalities for the executives.  
  
You wanted to see me, sir?  
  
Rufus did not turn around from where he stood in front of the windows. Why did you do it, Reeve?  
  
Sir? What do you mean? He shook his head in confusion. I built Cait on your father's orders -   
  
"That's not what I meant." Rufus turned around, his face as expressionless as a statue. "Why did you betray the company, Reeve?"   
  
"Sir?" Reeve stammered, desperately trying to figure what might have given him away, what betrayal Rufus might be talking about. Maybe it was letting Avalanche listen in on meetings (and it wasn't like he'd subjected them to Scarlet's idea of a meeting, the one and only thing that made him grateful for Rude's ominous presence in his office), or the ever less useful reports of what they were up to (which was not entirely his fault, and he would _not_ tell Reno about the time he plugged into Cait Sith to find out that Yuffie had been curled up asleep on the mog hugging the cat like a stuffed toy). Perhaps Rufus had found out about the evacuation plans. "I don't-"  
  
He always forgot how fast Rufus could move when he chose; Rufus was already across the room before he realized he was moving and Reeve stumbled backward with blood streaming from his nose, knocked breathless by the next punch to his stomach. He could only wonder why Rufus preferred his fists to his gun where he was concerned; maybe Rufus only wanted to keep him around to run the reactors. Another blow to his stomach, and the only thing holding him upright was Rufus' choking grip on his tie as he pounded on Reeve's chest.  
  
"_Why,_ Reeve?" Rufus demanded. "What did they give you that you betrayed us for them?"  
  
Reeve coughed blood and said, "Rufus - that's - I -" He spat out more blood, vaguely appalled at the ruin of Rufus' gleaming white suit. "They didn't give me anything." They tolerated him, mostly, because he was useful (which was familiar enough), and Yuffie actually liked him (which he wasn't sure he understood). Barret hated him, but Barret wasn't Reeve's favorite person in the world either; Barret had planned out the reactor bombings, had probably had more of them planned, and didn't care about everyone he'd killed and the destruction he'd caused. They hadn't given him anything, hadn't offered him anything; they were trying to do the only thing they knew to stop the destruction that was coming.  
  
The sound of footsteps on the staircase distracted Rufus for a moment, and he allowed Reeve to collapse to the floor. Reeve blinked, not sure what he was seeing; bits of red and black arranged themselves into an ankle-length red skirt split up to the waist, feminine legs in black stockings and red spike heels, and a familiar musky perfume assaulted his nose. He had the sudden, absolute conviction that he had been much better off a few seconds ago, not in the least ameliorated by the presence of a pair of legs in rumpled blue trousers with unpolished black shoes that lazed a few feet behind her.  
  
"Rufus-sama," Scarlet purred. "I am sorry to interrupt, but I need Reeve to get his reactors prepared to fire the cannon."  
|  
Rufus flung him to land against Scarlet's legs, and a pale hand with sharp red nails dragged him to his feet. "Very well. Reno. Make sure he obeys orders."  
  
Scarlet kept one red-nailed hand clamped firmly around his wrist and half-dragged him down the stairs and to the elevators. Reeve, clamping his other hand to his nose, wondered if Rufus would be kind enough to shoot him if he bolted back for the office. Reno rapped him ungently with his nightstick when he slowed down, and Reeve realized he'd never get a chance.  
  
You're working from my office, Scarlet said, when he started toward his office. I intend to keep a close eye on you.  
  
It didn't really matter whose office he was in; his subordinates knew his voice well enough, after all. The job could be done from anywhere in the building, or even home; but the computer in his office was tied into the appropriate networks, allowing him to view a realtime chart of reactor levels. Scarlet wouldn't care as long as Midgar wasn't blown to hell; he wasn't sure if she'd care if it was, as long as she wasn't in it at the time.  
  
He was always disconcerted by her office; he expected ornate carved furniture, overstuffed cushions and thick luxurious carpets, something like the way high-class bordellos were portrayed in the movies. Instead, it was pale ceramic tile and smooth plaster walls, chrome and glass and hard cold light, and even the rug on the floor beneath her desk might have been a slick of frozen blood.  
  
Get to work, Reeve, she said, shoving him toward her desk. And then we can discuss what you owe me.  
  
Owe you? He shook his head. Oh, no. I'm not falling for that one, Scarlet.  
  
she said, raising an eyebrow. Just what do you mean by that?  
  
Reeve wiped blood from his face with a tissue from her desk. "If Rufus wanted me dead," he said, "I'd _be_ dead. What do you think he keeps the Turks and a double-barrelled shotgun for?" He threw the tissue into her wastebasket; his nose had mostly stopped bleeding by now. His suit was a complete loss, though; he'd gone through more than one since Meteor appeared.  
  
Scarlet laughed. "Oh, perhaps you wouldn't be _dead_, though I don't think you should be that ... convinced ... of it, Reeve. But you would be absolutely useless to anyone for days once he was through with you."  
  
Reeve shrugged and drummed his fingers on the edge of her desk. "As far as you're concerned, Scarlet, I'm always useless, so I don't see what difference that would make."  
  
Reno, leaning insouciantly against the door, nearly inhaled his cigarette and coughed it back out.  
  
Scarlet laughed and folded her arms under her breasts. "Don't bother, Reeve. I know you like women.  
  
Reeve managed not to blush and hoped she hadn't found out about Elena. Entirely aside from that Scarlet would pass it on to Rufus and Rufus would make Elena's life hell, he doubted the Turks would approve. Elena could handle that, but he didn't know if he could.  
  
It might be amusing to see you make good on that, Reeve, Scarlet said. After all, you really ought to do something other than play with toys. It doesn't fit a man on the board of Shinra.  
  
I'm not, he said, ignoring Reno's smirk, interested in _your_ toys, Scarlet.  
  
She smirked, unfolded her arms and leaned forward to tap him lightly on the cheek. Maybe you'd be interested in Reno's then, Reeve. Reno sighed, looking half-interested and half-insulted. That would certainly improve _my_ miserable day.  
  
Reeve decided that his only chance was to change the subject. Do you want the Mako cannon to fire without destroying the building and most of the plate?  
  
It would be preferable, yes, Scarlet said dryly, resting one hand on her hip. I am not interested in having the city crash down around me.  
  
Then let me get to work.  
  
Scarlet eyed him thoughtfully, then laughed and gestured to her desk. Work away, Reeve. But don't expect it to get you off the hook.  
  
Reeve picked up the phone and started making calls. With luck, he could think of a way out of this situation before Scarlet decided to change the rules again. Reno was going to be no help whatsoever; if the office gossip was true, he might even decide to be on Scarlet's side. He managed to avoid explaining to his subordinates why he was calling from Scarlet's office as he made the necessary arrangements.  
  
Keep the Sector 5 reactor at half-power. I don't want to see it blow up again. Once was quite enough, yes. Is that the last one? Good. Tie the whole thing into the control panel in my office. He listened. Good, I'll take it from there. He hung up and tried to step away from the desk.  
  
Scarlet stepped in front of him and shoved him back against the desk. I told you, she purred, hands on his hips, I wasn't going to let you off the hook.  
  
Reeve shoved her away. And I said I wasn't interested in your toys. I have work to do, Scarlet. I'm sure one of the local houses would be happy to send someone up to entertain you.  
  
Oh, I'm sure they would, Scarlet hissed. But that's not the brand of entertainment I had in mind, Reeve. She reached out and grabbed his shoulder, and drew blood from his cheek with the sharp nails of the other hand. You've been playing this game far too long.  
  
The only person playing games here is you, Scarlet, Reeve snapped back. I have no idea what you think this is going to get you, and I don't care - I'm not playing.  
  
Scarlet's eyes flashed with fury. I don't think you understand, Reeve. You don't have a choice. _No one walks out on me._  
  
Well, maybe it's time someone did, Reeve snapped back. He pushed past her and walked toward her door.  
|  
Scarlet grabbed him by the shoulder, spun him around and slammed him into the wall next to the door. You've got more balls than I gave you credit for, she purred. Maybe you'll be more fun than I thought. She leaned in and kissed him, pressing him against the wall with her body.  
  
Reeve, revolted, grabbed her shoulders and almost threw her off of him. Forget it, Scarlet, _I'm not interested._  
  
She stumbled, ankle twisting as she fought to stay on her feet; her eyes flashed pure rage as she righted herself. Whatever she had been about to snarl was interrupted by the buzz of her phone. She slammed the speakerphone button.  
What is it? she demanded.  
  
Ma'am, the Proud Cloud is ready for testing. Heidegger requests that you attend the final test phase with him.  
  
Scarlet glared at Reeve. Don't think this is over, Reeve. Reno, go hand him off to whoever has him today. She shoved Reno out of the way, stormed out of her office and disappeared down the hall.  
  
Reno stared at Reeve and shook his head in disbelief. An' I thought you were a wuss, he said. He picked up his cell phone. Yo, Rude. I'm bringing him back down.  
  
Reeve sighed. Walking through the building in a bloody suit was not going to do his reputation any good; it was a good thing no one else wanted his job. At this point, if Rufus had been able to replace him, he would probably be splattered over the plaza around the building. Or maybe Rufus would keep him alive to use as a punching bag. A live one must be much more interesting than the ones in the gym.  
  
  
  
Huh? What? Reeve jumped and shook his head, blinking in confusion at the Turk.  
  
Don't space on me, Reno said, annoyed. Come on, you wanna be here when she gets back?  
  
Reeve discovered that he could, indeed, move surprisingly fast.   
  
Didn't think so, he said, and allowed him to take the back ways down to his office. Fortunately, there were few people in the halls, and those who saw him pretended not to have seen anything unusual.  
  
Rude stepped out of his office to talk to Reno, and Reeve took the chance to pull a clean shirt and a bottle of potion out of his desk; he smoothed the potion over the scratch Scarlet had left on his cheek and a few of the worst lacerations from Rufus. He was used to bruises, and potion wouldn't help anything more serious. He cleaned his face the best he could and pulled his shirt on quickly; he didn't want to heal or explain the marks Elena had left on him.  
  
He was at his desk checking on the reactor output levels when Rude returned; the bald Turk sat down in his usual chair and went back to drinking the last cup of coffee. Reeve sighed and made a fresh pot, and hoped Scarlet would not come looking for him for the rest of the day. He tapped into Cait several times that afternoon, but nothing that the AI couldn't handle came up. Avalanche was far enough away that they were severely out-of-sync with Midgar; right now they were scrounging up some dinner and had refused to let Yuffie cook (or Yuffie had conned them into not making her cook). His stomach rumbled, reminding him that it had been a very long time since lunch.  
  
There wasn't any food at home; he decided to order take-out when he got there. Reeve burned all the information he'd stolen from Hojo to disc, packed up his spreadsheets, packed all of them into his briefcase, and went home. Elena arrived shortly afterward; he wasn't sure, but he suspected Reno had night duty on Hojo. Reeve didn't envy him a bit.  
He grabbed some sweats and dumped his suit in a heap on his bedroom floor; it was bloody enough to be ruined. It wasn't the first one to be trashed by Rufus' propensity to use him as a punching bag; he picked up a bottle of potion and went into the bathroom while Elena and Rude talked in his living room.  
  
He would have to tell Avalanche about the cannon, about the plans to use it to break Sephiroth's shield on the crater. Later. He turned the shower on hot and let it rain down on him, hot water painful on abraded skin and cuts and bruises; he washed off the blood and leaned against the shower wall. There were times, Barret and all, that he thought about packing it in and sending his real body in with Avalanche. Even if they decided to shoot him, they'd probably be faster about it than Scarlet. But the Turks would get him long before he reached Cosmo Canyon; whatever personal feelings they might have, they'd do their job.  
  
Rude would probably be perfectly happy to shoot him. It would at least be better than being handed over to Scarlet again; next time he wouldn't get out of there that easily. Maybe he should have a drink. Or two. Or possibly three. Or he could just drink the entire bottle, assuming Reno or Rude had not already done so (Elena, happily for him, generally contented herself with one or two fairly small glasses).   
  
The hot water cut out unexpectedly; Reeve groaned, muttered something Cid would be proud of, and shut off the water. His doorbell rang as he got out and grabbed his towel; he heard Elena answer it, and dressed quickly (checking to make sure he was not putting anything on inside-out this time), hoping it wasn't Cameron again. Then again, she had enough to deal with in Junon that she wasn't likely to make the trip again.  
  
Elena had ordered dinner, garlic chicken and egg-drop soup, enough for both of them. She waved him off when he tried to say something and shoved a plate at him, the cat leaping onto the table to bat a piece of chicken from his plate. He only had two drinks, after all, and was pleasantly astonished to find he wasn't sleeping alone.  
  
  
_To Be Continued_  
  
[_Author's Notes: This begins before the first section of the previous chapter and ends before the second section - the orphanage part is the night before, the morning overlaps, and the afternoon/evening part is after the first section ends and three days before the second section begins. Confused yet?_] 


	14. Elena: Heavy Weather

_

This Fragile Life

_  
Elena: Heavy Weather  
  
  
Sleep spells were like being slowly smothered; they were heavy and hot and dark, impossible to shove away to get a bit of breathing room. They did not, Elena had discovered, block the peculiar electrical feeling of the paralytic stop spell; her nerves were still jangling with the crawling noise of it, and she couldn't concentrate. Hojo had hardly even looked at her when he cast the second spell, already busy with his charts and his machines.  
  
The sharp hot splash of the Esuna spell knocked her senses out-of-kilter, and she would have fallen if someone hadn't been holding her by the arms. She blinked the blurriness from her eyes, seeing Rude standing in front of her; he was holding her up with a painfully tight grip on her arms. She was stiff and sore from the stop spell, but she got her balance back and shook her head to clear it.  
  
"What happened?" she croaked, and coughed to clear her throat.  
  
Rude let go of her and stepped away, turning his back. She frowned when her arms still felt bound, and realized that her jacket and blouse had been shoved back from her shoulders half-way to her elbows. Her bra had been unhooked and shoved aside too; she blushed furiously, turned her back on the other Turks to shrug her jacket and blouse onto her shoulders and then hook her bra back into place. There were more papers lying around than she remembered, a cabinet hanging open, and leads dangling from the machines; she glanced down to see small marks on her body where those leads had probably been attached, and fresh bruises on her collarbone and the backs of her hands, with needle marks at the center.  
  
"Fuck, we thought you'd know," Reno griped. "How - Elena. Rufus is dead."  
  
She started, the fabric of her blouse slithering through her fingers. "What?"  
  
"Weapon." Rude replied tiredly. "It attacked and it blew out the top two or three floors. Rufus - "  
  
"We couldn't even _find_ most of him," Reno said, thumping something with his stick. "Part of his coat and his shotgun, melted into a nice knot." He sighed. "So that leaves us with Scarlet and Heidegger, cause Reeve's locked up in Scarlet's office, and nobody knows where the fuck Hojo is."  
  
She shook her head and finished buttoning her blouse. "Hojo - he said something about his experiments, and then he hit me with stop and sleep spells." She tucked her blouse back into her trousers and buttoned her jacket. "What the hell is Reeve in Scarlet's office for?" Reeve had spent most of his career trying to stay _out_ of Scarlet's grasp; she couldn't believe he'd just walked in there on his own.  
  
Reno groaned. "He tried to take on Scarlet and Heidegger to run the company an' lost, so Scarlet's locked him up in her office. We're supposed to go finish off Avalanche while they get that damn robot ready."  
  
"What are they going to do with that robot? They can't get it down in the crater." She turned back to them, to see Rude pick up a sheaf of papers from Hojo's messy desk and ruffle through them. She shook her head at Reeve and wondered what he'd been planning; getting trapped in Scarlet's office wouldn't have been it.  
  
"How should I know?" Reno grumbled, slouching against the desk. "Elena, much as I like you flashing me, what the hell was going on in here?"  
  
She stomped over and punched him in the stomach. "Shut up, Reno, how should I know? I was unconscious!" Reno doubled over and glared at her, and Rude shook his head, stepping between them.  
  
"Hojo. Running tests because of his experiment." Rude handed the papers, computer print-outs of test results annotated in Hojo's illegibly calligraphic writing, to Elena.  
  
"So what do we do now?" she asked. She glanced at the papers and tucked them into her jacket pocket with the disc Reeve had given her. There wasn't time now; making any sense of this stuff would take her hours, if not days.  
  
Shinra's finished, Reno said sourly. You think any of them could run this company without it falling apart?  
  
Rude shook his head. No. Accounting took off with all the cash too.  
  
Well, that figures, Elena sighed. Avalanche can go to hell. I want Hojo's _head._  
  
Reno. Get Reeve. Rude shook his head and glared at Reno when the redhead would have argued; Reno sighed and stomped out of the room.  
  
Elena sighed and rotated her shoulders, trying to work some of the stiffness out of them, and was surprised when Rude turned to her and asked if she was all right. she said with a nod. How long - you wouldn't know, would you?  
  
Rude frowned. No. Rufus has been dead for less than a hour. Scarlet and Heidegger didn't care what Hojo was doing.  
  
She paced, thinking, and tried to smooth wrinkles from her jacket; the papers crinkled and ruined the line of her jacket. She didn't think that mattered at the moment. More than an hour, then, I guess. Hojo's machines were still and silent and his computer shut down; the box that held used syringes was full and there were a few spots of blood near the desk. Elena wondered if that was her blood staining the carpet, or Hojo's; it was probably hers, since she hadn't had a chance to hit Hojo herself. Maybe he'd gotten sloppy with his needles.  


You didn't answer so we came looking. You were hooked up to those machines. Rude shook his head. Should have killed Hojo before.  
  
Elena sighed. She glared at the unlabeled machines and wished she had some idea what they were and why Hojo had hooked her up to them. Maybe those last reports would tell her what he'd done to her for his experiment. We know where Avalanche is?  
  
Reeve will. Why?  
  
She shook her head and half-heartedly punched the nearest machine; it made her fist hurt. They're likely to be after Hojo too - Strife's got reason, maybe Valentine if Tseng was right. Just a matter of whether they go after Sephiroth first.  
  
Rude replied. Unless Hojo's doing something that doesn't leave them a choice. Shield's gone.  
  
She turned to look at him, absently tugging her jacket straight.   
  
He nodded. Cannon fired and killed Weapon, took out the shield. Avalanche has to know.  
  
Reeve would have told them; his loyalty had been questionable since the Sector 7 collapse, and if Elena's had been any stronger she might have done something about it. There wasn't any reason to bother now. She wondered briefly whether Rude cared either; if he did, he'd probably have done something about it. She shook her head and leaned against Hojo's desk. So once we find Hojo ...  
  
We kill him, Rude said flatly. He's not going to tell you anything.  
  
They should have killed him as soon as Reeve broke into his computer and stole the data. At least that way she wouldn't have ended up half-naked and forgotten in the lab.   
  
Rude walked over and put his hand on her shoulder. Elena. I - we will not let Hojo's experiment hurt you.  
  
She turned to look at him over her shoulder; he tightened his grip before he let go and stepped back.  
  
We will do what we have to.  
  
The door slammed open and Reno stalked into the room; Reeve limped a few steps behind him. There was blood on the cuffs of his shirt where the manacles had rubbed his wrists raw and blood crusted from his nose to his jaw; the way he winced when he breathed was much more worrying. Elena did not move toward him, but Rude flicked a single inquiring glance at her anyway; she wondered what would happen when the other Turks found out.  
  
Where's Avalanche? Rude demanded, as Reeve walked, somewhat unsteadily, around Hojo's desk.   
  
Reeve coughed. On the way here, he said. After Hojo. He was - the reactors. What's happened to the reactors?  
  
Reno frowned. Nothing s'far as I know.  
  
Rude shook his head. Didn't hear anything. Why Hojo? Why not Sephiroth?  
  
He took over the mainframe, bypassed all the safety mechanisms, he was pushing reactor output too high. It was right after Diamond Weapon. I don't know what he thinks he's doing. Reeve collapsed into Hojo's chair, booted up the computer and swore; Elena had only heard him swear once or twice before, and it sounded like he'd borrowed Highwind's vocabulary. He's trashed this machine. Can't find out what's going on from here. He yanked out Hojo's drawers in frustration, then slammed them shut again when there was nothing but the usual office supplies and single-packed sterile syringes in them.  
  
Wait. You mean Hojo's taken over _every reactor in the city?_ Elena demanded.  
  
Reeve nodded, slumping back briefly in Hojo's chair. Every single one. He can't have diverted all the power yet, we're not on generator power.  
  
Diverted the power to _what?_ Rude demanded.  
  
The Sister Ray, Reeve said. It has to be the cannon, nothing else can _take_ that much power.  
  
So Avalanche is coming after him? Reno drawled. We're supposed to go after them if they show up.  
  
Reeve said urgently. There isn't enough of a company _left_ to bother with.  
  
Rude shrugged. We want Hojo for what he did to Elena.  
  
Reeve said, distractedly sorting through the papers on top of Hojo's desk. But the _cannon_ is the problem, he's got to be stopped before he fires it.  
  
"So what happens when Hojo fires the cannon?" Reno demanded.  
  
Reeve ran a hand through his disheveled hair and put his ponytail back in place; he frowned a bit, thinking, and finally said, "Exactly? I don't know. But the vibrations the first time shattered windows all over the plate, knocked down a few unsteady structures, cracked foundations - " He shook his head. "Hojo's running it out of control, it's going to be much, much worse this time. It could crack the connections to the support pillars, crack the pillars, maybe even crack the Plate itself at the joints."  
"Crack the _Plate?_" Reno demanded. Supposed to survive a quake!  
  
"The cannon's not an earthquake," Reeve said, shaking his head. "The vibrations would be coming from _on the Plate itself_, not the ground. It wasn't designed to survive that. If Hojo powers it high enough, the plate might fall apart and the entire city would be like Sector 7."  
  
Reno was silent, eyes hooded; he knew, better than any of them, what that had cost. Elena started to speak, but Rude, for once, spoke first.  
  
How long? he asked, frowning.  
  
"Before he can fire it again? An hour, maybe. Avalanche is almost here, but they'll have to come in from underground to get through."  
  
"We'll meet them there. Not to fight." The look Rude gave Reeve had intimidated some of the toughest people in the slums. But Hojo's _Elena's_ to kill.  
  
"I'll pass it on," Reeve said, his eyes relieved and grateful. "The maintenance tunnels, off the disused service rooms in Area 16. He found a blank sheet of paper and scribbled a quick map for them; Elena was amazed that he knew where everything was without his maps or his city model in front of him. I'll tell 'em where to meet you."  
  
Reno, disgruntled, said, I still don't like   
  
Elena shrugged. They don't like us either, she pointed out dryly. Strife's not gonna kill us; it'd make him late to get to Hojo.  
  
Oh, _that's_ reassuring, he grumbled. Strife didn't punch _you_; bastard hits as hard as you do!  
  
Reeve pushed himself back to his feet. You could try not pissing him off, Reno. Elena quirked her eyebrow at him and he shrugged slightly, a tiny (slightly embarrassed, slightly rueful) smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.  
  
Let's get it over with, Reno said, ignoring that comment, and stomped out of the lab.  
  
Come on, Elena. Payback time, Rude said, following Reno out of the lab.  
  
Elena paused at the door and looked back at Reeve. "Tell the Sisters I'll see them in Kalm."  
  
"Right. Elena - I'll see you then?"  
  
She nodded quickly, alarmed at the unexpected lump in her throat. Yeah. See you then. She turned and hurried out of the room, swallowing hard, half-angry and half-shocked at herself. Reno and Rude were waiting at the elevator, and she stretched her legs to catch up with them. The door slammed behind her as Reeve hurried off on some mission of his own. She told herself firmly he could handle most things that weren't Scarlet, smoothed her expression to correct Turk impassivity, and stopped next to Rude.  
  
Took you long enough, Reno grumbled.  
  
Let's move, she said, and forced her mind to the mission.  
  
There was no need for speaking; Rude knew the way, and the monsters down here seemed content to snarl at them from the shadows. Elena wasn't sure how long it had been, probably less than twenty minutes, before they heard voices: Cait Sith, Strife, and an irate Wallace. They rounded a turn in the tunnel to find the Avalanche crew waiting for them; Strife was in front, sword drawn (Elena was irresistibly reminded of the office joke about Heidegger's inadequacies), with the others behind him, all with weapons drawn.  
  
What do you want? Strife demanded. Vincent, on his left, watched them silently and warily, gun in a deceptively relaxed position; Wallace, on Strife's right, was scowling at Reno. The others were ranged behind them, waiting. Cid was grinding a cigarette under his heel and lighting another one. Tifa, tired-looking but with fists raised, glared at all of them in disgust. Nanaki - well, his tail was lashing, but Elena had no idea what that meant. Yuffie was bouncing impatiently, shuriken firmly in hand, and Cait was waving his megaphone wildly.  
  
Elena shook her head. "We're not here to fight you." Cait made the moogle hop forward and nodded vigorously in agreement.  
  
"Yet," Reno added, rapping his nightstick against the wall and glowering back at Wallace.  
  
...You're going after Hojo, Rude put in, voice flat and even; Elena caught Tifa watching him, a hint of pain or bitterness in the twist of her mouth.  
  
Yeah? What's it to you? Strife demanded.  
  
"We have reasons of our own to take out Hojo," Elena said. "We're suggesting a ... temporary alliance."   
  
Strife flicked a look at Cait Sith, who waved his megaphone at him. Told you. Nothin' t' worry about!  
  
Vincent frowned, or Elena thought he did; it was hard to tell under those wrappings. "And after Hojo is finished?"  
  
Reno shrugged. "Long as you don't _make_ it personal, we won't worry about it."  
  
Vincent nodded once. "I see." It was easy to believe that he had been a Turk once; despite his clothing, his cool, collected demeanor reminded her distinctly of Tseng.  
  
What about Marlene? Wallace growled. And Miss Elmyra?  
  
I told ya, they're fine! Cait Sith said, outraged.  
  
Elena thought for a moment and decided to take a chance. They're fine. You get us out of here afterward, I'll take you straight to them. Reno shrugged, annoyed, but Rude nodded once in approval.  
  
Yeah? Why should we trust you?  
  
Shinra's gone. Don't need hostages. Rude considered, and added, Kid wants to go home.  
  
Wallace frowned, then nodded slowly at Strife.   
  
The blond sheathed his sword, and the others relaxed slightly; Vincent holstered his gun with an easy, smooth motion that made Elena think he could draw it again before they could blink. "Fine. Whichever one of you is after Hojo comes with me and Vincent."  
  
Elena stepped forward; Strife eyed her warily, no doubt remembering the punch she'd given him, and Valentine stepped aside slightly to let her join them. Neither of them asked questions yet; Valentine was silent, and Strife looked over the rest of his crew, rearranging his plans.  
  
Barret. Cid. Reno's with you.  
  
Cid slammed the butt of his spear into the ground and glared at Reno, muttering something remarkably obscene. Wallace shrugged, and loudly socked a fresh clip into his gunarm. Elena shrugged slightly at Reno; she could hardly blame Strife for splitting them up, as much as she disliked it. Reno nodded and sauntered over to Cid and Wallace; Cid spat on the ground.  
  
Yuffie. Nanaki. Rude's with you. Strife did_ not_ sound happy about that, and Elena wondered why. They'd thought the teenager was allowed back only because she was a good fighter; but then Strife had slugged Reno, and now he was pissed about putting Rude near her.  
  
Nanaki flicked his tail and growled, All right, Cloud. Yuffie shrugged, unimpressed, and said, Yeah, fine, what_ever_.  
  
Tifa, go with Cait, he said, surprising her. Whenever she got a chance, she was going to have a very long discussion with Reeve. Let's mosey.  
  
Cid said something that sounded suspiciously like goddamnit, he said _mosey!'_, and Avalanche moved out. Wallace, Cid and Reno went back, toward the secondary power stations and the first security substation. Yuffie, Nanaki and Rude left at the next intersection, heading for the second security substation, and Tifa and Cait left at the third, heading for Shinra headquarters.   
  
Valentine was silent, except for the whisper of his cloak and the occasional click of his boots; Strife stomped along, raising echoes off the metal walls. Water dripped from broken pipes, and steam hissed from somewhere. Elena told herself firmly that this wasn't a horror movie, she was armed, and Strife and Valentine would make good decoys.  
  
What's down here besides mold, dust and rats? Strife asked after a while.  
  
Elena thought for a moment and shrugged. Robot security; I have clearance to shut them down. Some of the smaller creatures from the abandoned areas get in here - She heard scales sliding along the metal floor ahead; Valentine's gun was in his hand already, and Strife drew his sword.  
  
What is it? Valentine asked.  
  
She shook her head; nothing that she knew to expect down here made that sort of noise. Maybe Hojo let something loose down here.  
  
The thing slithered into view; Elena was sure it had been a snake before Hojo got hold of it. Now it looked like a child's toy with a mouthful of vicious fangs; they guarded the upper levels in Headquarters, and there was at least one injury a month restraining the things when they escaped the upper levels. Hojo had told both Presidents none had ever escaped the building, but he must have been lying through his teeth.   
  
Strife hacked it in two with one blow.  
  
What the hell was that doing here? he demanded.  
  
Elena shrugged. Must have escaped. She paused, and decided she might as well tell them the last details. "Scarlet and Heidegger are coming after you.  
  
Why the hell didn't you tell us that earlier? he demanded, sword still raised.   
  
Elena shrugged and did not quite reach for her gun. Waiting to see if you were going to shoot me in the back.  
  
Valentine nodded once, and Strife backed off, sheathing the sword. Very well. Where are they? the older man asked.  
  
She shook her head. Not sure. They were going to use Scarlet's new weapon - some idiot giant robot. My guess is they'll be up ahead somewhere, expecting you guys to come in after Hojo.  
  
Strife sighed. Whatever. You're awfully cool about it.  
  
Beating up on them is going to be the best thing that happened today, she replied, holstering her gun as they started moving again.  
  
He eyed her and then shrugged. Guess so. You're a lot better company without the ditz act.  
  
She decided to take that as a backhanded compliment. "Huh. Did that badly at it, did I?"  
  
"Turks," Valentine said, offended, "do not hire fools."  
  
Strife rolled his eyes and Valentine crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, aside from that, Strife went on, Yuffie overheard you guys talking outside the Mines, and the bartender at Turtle Paradise heard you all talking."  
  
"And Reno thinks she's just as much a ditz as you were supposed to think I was.  
  
Strife grinned. "Nah. She's a brat and I wouldn't let her loose in a materia shop, but she's no ditz.   
  
Vincent sighed. A measure of restraint would be a good thing.  
  
You should have known she'd take _that_ as a challenge, Vincent. Anyway, she gave them back, Strife replied as they rounded another turn to see the ladder. Finally. Damn, I'm sick of these tunnels.  
  
Something heavy clanked overhead. I think they're waiting for us, Elena said.  
  
What about the robot?  
  
They were trying to build electrical shielding into it, but I never found out how well it worked, she replied.  
  
Lightning spells will not be useful? Valentine asked, frowning slightly.  
  
That's the idea, she said. Heidegger complained about the heat-tolerance. It's top-heavy too.  
  
Cloud nodded. Can we just get Scarlet and Heidegger out of the way and not worry about it?  
  
She shrugged. If they come out of that thing, we can shoot at em, but they're both usually in bullet-proof vests.  
  
Valentine said calmly, necessarily a problem.  
  
Strife blinked. How's Scarlet _get_ a vest under that dress?  
  
It's _in_ the dress, Elena said. Custom-made, same place that does Turk formals. Look, we can talk about that later, let's get on with it.  
  
Right. Let's go, Strife said, and climbed up the ladder; Valentine indicated Elena should go next. She climbed up, relieved to finally be out of the wretched tunnels, and acutely aware of Valentine immediately below her. The air was thick and wet, the sky already dark; Midgar had apparently decided this was the perfect day for one of its infamous rainstorms. Well, maybe the damn robot would fall over on the slick pavement.  
  
It refused to fall over, and they had to jump to avoid being stepped on. It couldn't bend enough to swat at them, apparently. Instead, it raised one arm up to chest level, turned the palm up, and paused.  
  
You fool! Heidegger bellowed, shoving open the cockpit and stepping out onto the robot's palm. You were supposed to kill them, not capture them! Well, kill them now!  
  
Scarlet stayed behind him, not quite leaving the cockpit; she peered around him and saw Elena. Heidegger, you idiot, you've got it wrong as usual.  
  
Commander Heidegger, Elena said, raising her gun. I quit.  
  
Heidegger shrieked when her first shot tore through his groin; blood and urine darkened the front of his trousers, and he shrieked again when her second shot tore through what was left. Vincent's shot grazed his shoulder as he fell to his knees, and Elena aimed at Scarlet. Scarlet, smarter than Heidegger to the last, kicked him out of the way and dove for the cockpit; Elena's shot barely grazed her, but Valentine's second and third caught her in the shoulder and arm. The cockpit door closed and the robot's arm rotated down to its side. Elena felt herself grinning like a madwoman as Heidegger's body tumbled to the ground with a wet, heavy thunk.  
  
Strife hadn't quite crossed his legs, but he looked like he was thinking about it. Oh, man, that had to hurt, he muttered, looking at her queasily. You didn't _have_ to do that.  
  
_You_ never had to deal with Heidegger, Elena replied, smug. She had been the best sharpshooter in her unit and accepted directly into the Turks because of it. Heidegger had tried to have her transferred to his personal guard unit; Tseng had squelched it that idea immediately. Heidegger had promptly assumed she'd gotten her job the way Scarlet had.  
  
The robot began to move, and they had to dodge quickly to avoid being stomped; Elena managed to fire off a couple rounds as she ran, but the bullets only scratched it. Valentine had no better luck. Strife managed to dent it a few times, but nothing better. The robot turned ponderously and dropped to one knee, and then the other.  
  
She's going to fire! Elena dodged behind a row of boxes with Strife and Valentine right behind her. Fortunately, he robot had lousy aim; they were pelted with chips of brick the bullets knocked from the surrounding walls and ground. Elena peered cautiously over the top of the boxes and dropped back down almost at once. There was a gap between the armor over the knee joint and the leg, and she could just make out cabling inside. Strife. How fast are you? At least Hojo's Mako treatments were good for something; she'd always had good eyes, but that had been beyond her best.  
  
  
  
There's a gap in the armor at the knee. Cables are too thick for guns, but your sword ...  
  
Strife looked up and nodded.   
  
Valentine nodded. Go. I will draw fire. Strife ran forward, zig-zagging under the robot's view. Valentine ran left, firing at the cockpit housing; Elena hesitated a moment, shrugged, and ran right. The robot had not been designed to handle targets moving both under it and on both sides; it couldn't shoot down without hitting itself, and it could shoot in only one direction at time. Their bullets weren't doing more than scratching the metal, but the robot was firing wildly, knocking holes in wood and chipping brick. Elena stopped firing long enough to wipe blood from her eyes when a chip of brick cut her forehead.  
  
There was a shower of sparks and then a rain of thick, foul-smelling fluid; Strife jumped to the robot's other leg.  
  
Valentine shouted, seeing the cockpit crack open. Strife jumped for the ground just as Scarlet shot; Elena and Valentine opened fire, but the cockpit slammed shut again. If they'd hit anything (Elena was doubtful she had, and Valentine shook his head), there was no way to tell. The robot still couldn't stand, but it could swing its arms; Elena dive-rolled out of the way. Strife's less practiced roll dropped him hard on her legs.  
  
He scrambled quickly to his feet and unthinkingly hauled her back to hers.  
  
Now what? Strife demanded.  
Valentine eyed the robot. If lightning will not work, ice and fire might.  
  
Strife nodded. Fine by me.  
  
Elena focused her spells on the damaged joint until it was a solid mass of ice, the metal creaking and groaning as the joint was forced out of alignment. Strife's fire spell vaporized the ice instantly, causing the over-stressed metal to screech and shatter, the joint breaking completely. Sparks danced over the joint and the nearby metal.  
  
I think, Valentine said deliberately, that the shielding has been damaged. The first lightning spell caused the robot to jerk violently. The second caused it to tremble, and the third sent it into St. Vitus' dance, thrashing wildly enough to knock holes in buildings and forcing them to take cover under scaffolding. There was a series of small explosions from the cockpit area, and the robot collapsed.  
  
Think she's still alive? Strife asked, warily.  
  
Elena shook her head. Doubt it, not after those explosions. We're running low on time.  
  
Vincent nodded, and Strife went on ahead, but he looked back over his shoulder briefly before the robot was out of sight.   
  
She and Valentine followed him to the base of the stairs, where the rest of Avalanche and the Turks were waiting. Reno, Wallace and Cid all looked the worse for wear; Reno had a black eye and a bloodstained, torn jacket, Wallace had a possibly broken nose and a lot of burn marks (suspiciously familiar, like an electrified nightstick's), and Cid had a bloody nose and an insufferably smug look. Rude looked slightly weary and frazzled, but was uninjured; he looked at her carefully and a smile flickered across his face. Yuffie was sitting against a wall, Nanaki stretched out next to her; Tifa, looking exhausted, was sitting at the bottom of the stairs with Cait Sith.   
  
Reno refused to meet her eyes or Rude's; Rude shrugged at her and shook his head. Strife looked over his crew and decided not to ask. Valentine sighed minutely and said nothing.  
  
I'm going up with Vincent and Elena. There anything coming after us?  
  
Tifa shook her head. We closed up everything on our end, she said. Cait nodded and bounded up out of the way, landing next to Reno.  
  
Yeah, we got everything, Yuffie added, absently running her hand through Nanaki's mane. He didn't seem to mind, his one good eye drooping shut.  
  
We will make sure nothing comes up this way, Cloud, he said, tail flicking lazily back and forth.   
  
Right. Let's go. Tifa pushed herself slowly to her feet and moved out of the way. Cloud paused on the way and almost said something; she shook her head at him, and he went on up the stairs.  
  
Hojo was standing at the mainframe with his back to them, working the controls frantically. He was muttering under his breath in a mixture of languages, his movements frantic and almost out of control. He ignored them as they came up behind them, feet clattering on the metal catwalk.  
  
"Stop right there, Hojo." Strife said.  
  
Hojo did not turn around. "Oh, it's you. The failure." Elena frowned at the hysteria in his voice; he wasn't working the controls, she saw, he was pounding on them in frustration. She drew her revolver and cocked it; Vincent, on the other side of Strife, did the same.  
  
"I have a name! It's Cloud!" The blonde shook his head in disgust.  
  
Hojo stopped and turned around. His skin had a decided greenish tint and his pupils had enlarged to the point he didn't have irises anymore; the grin on his face was enough to make Elena's stomach churn. "Whenever I look at you, I am reminded of my lack of scientific sense! I thought you were a failure, and you were the only one who succeeded as a Sephiroth clone."   
  
He saw Elena then, the grin twisting into an equally repulsive leer. "It's too bad you could never quite replace Lucrecia." He licked his lips and laughed, the sound spiralling up into hysteria. "Hee hee hee ... Lucrecia would be so appalled to find out what I've done with her research ... hee hee hee ..."  
  
"Lucrecia? What have you done, Hojo?" Vincent demanded.  
  
Elena looked from Hojo to Vincent and back again. Who's Lucrecia?  
  
Hojo laughed again, turning to face Vincent and smiling like a very hungry snake. "Hee hee hee ... you would want to know, wouldn't you Vincent? But I don't have time for you anymore. _Your_ experiment is done." He spun around to face the mainframe and glared at the digital readouts. "It's not high enough yet! This is taking too long!" He pounded the mainframe angrily.  
  
"Stop this right now and get away from there," Strife snapped.  
  
"This? Oh, this!" Hojo said, turning back to Strife and laughing again. "Sephiroth wants Mako. So I'm going to give it to him."  
"Why, Hojo?" Strife demanded.   
  
"Stop asking why all the time, you idiot! Hojo shrieked, then calmed down, speaking quite normally. Actually, you might have the makings of a scientist. As for this - my son needs me. That's all.  
  
"Your _son_?!" Elena gasped. Strife froze in place, his sword tilting down to rest point-first on the platform; he started to say something, stopped, and shook his head.  
  
Vincent stepped back, red eyes stunned. "Sephiroth is _your_ son?"  
  
"Hahahah ... so much you didn't know. _He_ doesn't know it." Hojo's cackle was bitter and bubbly. Always looking down on me ... what would he do if he knew? hee hee hahahhahah!" He studied the mainframe again as he stopped laughing. "83%. Not enough yet. I gave the woman with my child to Professor Gast's Jenova Project. You remember that, don't you Vincent?"   
  
"...I was wrong," Vincent said, just audible over the growing wind. His voice rose. "You bastard, Hojo. I should never have punished myself for the Jenova project." The claw flexed in anger. "It was _you_!"  
  
"Hee hee hee ... Professor Gast had no idea how far I pushed his theories until it was too late to stop me!"   
  
Elena decided someone had to take action, or Hojo would fire the cannon before they stopped talking. She raised her gun and aimed. Professor Hojo.  
  
I allowed you to be part of my greatest experiment, he said petulantly. What more do you want?  
  
Go to hell. She pulled the trigger twice, a quick double-tap to his head and heart; Hojo collapsed to his knees, still laughing. Hojo staggered back to his feet, and Elena could only stare at him in disbelief; if he had had a gun he could probably have shot her right then.  
  
"Hee hee hee ... I injected myself with Jenova! Here are ... hahhahah ... my results!"  
  
The ragged hole her bullet had made was still visible in Hojo's forehead, just above the bridge of his nose; blood mixed with something thick and hideously green pulsed out of the wound, ran down his nose and dripped off his face. Blood and the same green stuff spewed out of the equally small hole in his chest, soaking his shirt and his lab coat. Two squat, repulsive creatures oozed out from behind the mainframe and snapped their jaws hungrily.  
"What the hell are those?" Strife demanded.  
  
Elena shook her head, clearing it of the shock, and took aim. "His latest creations," she said in disgust. "Nasty."  
  
Valentine nodded and shot the one on the left; it mewled like a wounded cat and spit at him. "Less dangerous than Hojo."  
  
Elena couldn't argue with that, so she shot Hojo again, dodging a surprisingly strong, if clumsy, attack. Strife dove in and hit with a blow that should have killed the scientist; Hojo only laughed again and knocked him to the ground. Valentine, with quiet, deadly aim, repeated the double-tap she'd done earlier, with as little effect. Elena shot him again, puzzled as Hojo's body seemed to shrink, and yelped as another blow connected and drove her briefly to her knees. Hojo laughed and tried to strike Valentine; he blocked it with his claw, and sick green pus poured from Hojo's arm.  
  
"Hahahaha ..." His voice was bubbling, echoing weirdly, and his lab coat was soaked with blood and that vile green pus. "Now let's see ... how the Mako is reacting!"  
  
Strife struck as she and Vincent fell back, and stumbled, astonished that he'd missed; Hojo was shrinking rapidly. She fired twice and missed both times; Valentine hit with one shot and missed with the next. Hojo wasn't shrinking, she realized, he was_ melting._ His head fell at an impossible angle as his body twisted and warped itself into something barely recognizable as ever having been human. His hands grew out of all proportion to his over-long arms, and he looked like nothing so much as a picture she'd seen in an art gallery once, a surrealist horror painting by an artist she couldn't remember. The catwalk creaked and swayed.  
  
"What the _hell_ ...?" Strife demanded. He wiped blood from his face and raised his sword.  
  
"Jenova. And Mako." Valentine shook his head. "A bad combination."  
  
Elena kicked one of Hojo's pets to edge of the catwalk; it screeched and tumbled over, clinging to the edge with long fingers. She walked over and stomped on its hands, and it let go with a shriek. Hojo struck out at Valentine, a bizarre, clumsy blow that the former Turk easily dodged, and Strife struck at one of the arms. Elena, entirely unsure if Hojo's heart still existed, shot him repeatedly in the head as he tried to hit Strife. Valentine reloaded and began shooting as Hojo slammed Elena to the slick cold surface of the catwalk, pinning her down; the arm was heavier than she thought Hojo himself had been, stank worse than a garbage dump, and was covered with a thin layer of tacky, greenish slime. Her head rang, but she held still as Strife swung his sword down in a brutal blow just a few inches from her; Hojo screeched and she managed to kick his arm loose and shove herself to her knees. Strife hauled her to her feet as Valentine unloaded the rest of his clip into Hojo's head.  
Hojo crumpled unexpectedly into a still, rancid heap in front of the mainframe. Elena kicked an empty clip over the side and loaded a fresh clip, eyeing the motionless pile of flesh warily. Strife prodded Hojo with his sword; Hojo twitched.  
  
"Time to end this," Strife said, raising his sword for the final blow.  
  
Elena and Valentine took aim, and Hojo twitched again, then flipped himself over and a few feet away, still twitching. Strife struck just before they started shooting, but Hojo flipped himself over again and all three of them missed. Hojo began to twitch violently, bouncing around like popcorn in a skillet, and they stepped back. The scientist's body began to melt again, spreading out into a formless blob; it pulsed sickeningly for a few moments, then suddenly pulled itself together, into a pulsing green blob about the size of a half-grown chocobo.  
  
Elena wished she'd shot Hojo a long time ago, and saved herself this much aggravation. The blob twitched and stretched; she blinked, wondering if she was seeing things. It twitched and stretched again; Strife stepped back a pace, and she realized she was not seeing things. The blob stretched and twisted again, turning back into something vaguely human, vaguely reminiscent of Hojo, but with a long tail, smooth featureless arms and sightless eyes behind a mockery of glasses.  
  
Valentine ran out of bullets a few minutes before she did, and the air was suddenly hot, the moisture in the air turning to scalding steam. Valentine's body flashed and shimmered, and behind him rose the great dragon Bahamut; one beat of his wings half-deafened Elena, and his roar when he spewed fire down on Hojo finished it. Hojo shuddered and screamed, a high-pitched sound like over-stressed shearing metal, convulsing under the blow, flesh bubbling and melting, running off his inhuman skeleton to slime the catwalk further and splatter over the mainframe. Bahamut roared again and was gone, but the air was still full of steam.  
  
Hojo shrieked again and Elena coughed and hacked, gasping through the steam. Neither she nor Cloud moved fast enough to block Hojo's desperate attack; he tore a gaping hole in Valentine's side and slammed him into the catwalk hard enough to dent the metal. Cloud grabbed her arm when she started to move toward Valentine.  
  
Valentine screamed, the sound not altogether human, and began to glow as if he was casting another summons. And then he disappeared altogether, and what stood there in his place was something out of the hellfire stories the oldest nuns had told back at the orphanage, a giant bat-winged demon with teeth and claws. Strife shook his head and let go of her arm.  
  
"He won't attack allies," Strife said. "Dunno if he's remembers you're an ally. Let's finish this."  
  
Elena raised her hands and began hurling spells at the thing that had once been Hojo. Strife, apparently unfazed by the demon that had taken Valentine's place, attacked in between her spells, pausing to call up some sort of barrier spell. The demon's attacks were terrifying, unpredictable, and as utterly unlike Valentine's cool, composed style as she could imagine; the demon ripped and tore flesh in attacks that seemed calculated to cause pain, not just injury.  
  
The thing that had been Hojo collapsed after the demon's final assault. Hojo twitched and shook, convulsed violently, and his flesh began melting, thick rancid globs falling off to splatter through the catwalk. Thunder growled overhead and it began to rain. Hojo dissolved into thick grease that plopped through the catwalk. The demon howled, body glowing, and then Valentine was back, exhausted but uninjured.  
  
"Goodbye, Hojo," he said, rising gracefully to his feet.  
  
What did he mean about his greatest experiment? Strife demanded.  
  
Elena shook her head, hesitated, and decided that Avalanche was probably her best remaining chance at finding out what Hojo had done. I don't know. He did _something_ to me, exposed me to Mako. We didn't get a chance to figure out what. She refused to nervously touch the papers and disc in her pocket, only now wondering whether the disc had broken in the fight. Reeve had a copy. Who's Lucrecia?  
  
Sephiroth's mother, Vincent said quietly. The thunder growled again, closer this time.  
  
Elena stared at him. Sephiroth's _mother_? If she'd thought about it, she would have been less surprised, but hearing Hojo claim Sephiroth as his son had been rather shocking.  
  
Valentine said, the stairs rattling as the others ran up them.  
  
Cait Sith bounded up in the lead, followed shortly by Cid, Yuffie and Nanaki; an exhausted Tifa, followed closely by Wallace, came up just before the other Turks.  
  
Jeez, this is gross, Yuffie grumbled. Lightning flashed, followed by a sharp crack of thunder, and the rain became heavy and soaking.  
  
Nanaki growled. It's not sticking in _your_ fur, he said, disgruntled. And my nose is considerably closer to it than yours. He shook himself, water spraying everywhere, only to get immediately soaked again.  
  
Cid grumbled something at both of them, and Tifa intervened before they could start arguing. Elena, with a little time to look, realized that Avalanche was exhausted; Tifa looked worse than any of them, but Nanaki's movements reminded her of a sleepy cat, and Wallace's eyes were shadowed. Strife and Valentine seemed the least affected of them all.  
  
Cait, after a lot of grumbling about Vincent summoning Bahamut, had Yuffie throw her shuriken and cut the network cable. That's it! Dad's gonna fix everything from where he is.  
  
We waiting for him? Strife demanded.  
  
Cait shook his head, then hurriedly straightened his wobbling crown. Nah. He's gonna send me along instead.  
  
Wallace nodded, glowering at Elena and Reno impartially, then turning to Rude. Where's Marlene? he growled suspiciously.  
  
Rude replied, unruffled. The old guardhouse in the wall.  
  
Wallace frowned sharply. That place?  
  
Cait bounded between them. Come on, come on, let's go! He shook himself. I'm gonna short out in this!  
  
The Highwind swung dangerously low and threw a ladder over the side; most of them scrambled up the ladder with the ease of long practice. Wallace and Valentine waited for the Turks to go up before climbing aboard themselves. Nanaki, growling, was hoisted up in a makeshift sling; Elena had been wondering how he managed ladders. Apparently he didn't. Elena leaned against the cabin, on the side out of the rain; Reno and Rude stood nearby. Nanaki shook off again, much to Cid's aggravation; the pilot stomped below, glaring at everybody impartially and yelling at his crew. Yuffie leaned on the rail as the ship took off; Wallace stomped on below, glaring at Reno.  
  
Elena figured Reno was too busy hoping Tifa's shirt became transparent when wet to notice.  
  
Cait bumped his head against her hand before he went below, almost knocking his crown off; he adjusted it and bounded down the stairs. She tucked her hand into her other pocket, fingers curling around her rosary; Reeve was going to make it to Kalm, somehow. Yuffie dodged past Valentine and ran down the stairs; Strife grinned at the look on Valentine's face and stomped down himself.  
  
Valentine paused briefly at the top of the stairs. Elena. Did Hojo ever speak of Lucrecia?  
  
Not before that, she replied, startled. You knew her?  
  
It was ... a long time ago, he said quietly. Lucrecia, Professor Gast ... and Hojo.  
  
You _are_ the Turk who went missing in Nibelheim, she said, pieces falling into place. Tseng wasn't sure.  
He nodded, black hair sliding around his face. Once. No more. He spun around in a whirl of black and scarlet and disappeared down the stairs.   
  
What the hell's that supposed to mean? Reno demanded.  
  
He's not a Turk, Tifa said. She was shivering in the rain, her shirt plastered to her body. To Reno's disappointment, she was wearing a bra. Doesn't want it back, either.  
  
Yeah, I guess you'd know, Reno said, staring at Tifa's chest anyway. Since -   
  
Rude clamped his hand firmly on Reno's shoulder. "Enough." Reno glowered at Rude and slouched at the top of the stairs in relative shelter.  
  
I'm going to see if Valentine will tell me something useful, Elena said.  
  
Tifa frowned; Nanaki stretched, a long movement that suggested he either had fewer bones that it looked like he did, or a lot more joints. the cat-wolf said deliberately, is perfectly capable of defending himself.  
  
The woman shrugged, the look she directed at Elena distinctly hostile. We only let them on to get Marlene and Elmyra back, Nanaki.  
  
Well, I suppose, he replied. But Yuffie will be able to keep -  
  
Anger flickered over Tifa's face. _Yuffie_ is probably too busy being sick to notice anything, she snapped. And -   
  
Nanaki growled, and Elena decided that she might as well go below while they were both distracted. Reno tried to smack her on the butt when she walked past him; she punched him in the stomach and went on down the stairs. This was only the second time she'd been on the airship, but it was a massive improvement over helicopters and small planes; she was barely even queasy. Yuffie was sitting folded up in a corner, hands clamped over her mouth, looking wretchedly ill; Strife came stomping out from the cockpit (Strife just seemed to like making noise), and dropped down next to her.  
  
"Here," he said, tossing her something.   
  
"Oh, gawd!" Whatever it was, Yuffie took it and drank it down with the water he offered her. "Thanks, Cloud."  
  
"Just pull it together, Yuffie, we're gonna need you at the crater," Strife said, pushing himself back to his feet. "And you don't get all the materia."  
"C'mon, you're not gonna need it," the ninja said, starting to look healthier. Strife pulled her to her feet. "I mean, you don't even want those Manipulate materia ... "  
  
"Yeah, and letting you at them gives me nightmares," Strife said dryly. He turned and stomped back up to the cockpit; Elena caught the look Yuffie shot at his back as she chased after him.  
  
"Jeez, Cloud, wait up!"  
  
Elena almost laughed; at least one of these people made sense. She wondered if that had been what Tifa had been so angry about; maybe she could ask Reeve, when he got out of Midgar.  
  
She found the bunkroom, which stank of smoke and sweat, gunmetal and gun oil, and a heavy animal scent that was probably Nanaki. It was surprisingly neat; she'd expected Avalanche, as disorganized as they were, to be slobs, but the beds were more or less made, the ashtray was only half-full, and if Nanaki shed, someone had swept most of it up. Valentine was sitting cross-legged on his bunk, cleaning a particularly nasty-looking revolver of a type Elena didn't know; his cloak was folded up on his pillow with bullets piled on it, and his hair was loosely pulled back from his face.  
  
What do you want, Elena? he said, not looking up. A shotgun and another revolver lay on top of the chest at the foot of his bunk.  
  
About the only thing I ever got out of Hojo directly was that the last one he tried this on didn't take her treatments and died, she said. What happened to Lucrecia?  
  
She ... died in labor, he said shortly. What treatments was Hojo referring to?  
  
I don't know, she admitted. He dosed me with plenty of Mako, but other than that...  
  
He did look up at that, bright red eyes unreadable. Did he give you Jenova treatments?  
  
Not that I know of, she said. After Sephiroth took off with Jenova, there wouldn't have been much - I didn't think he had enough left to shoot himself up with.  
  
I do not know what Hojo did. He looked away. His claw, finely jointed as a human hand, didn't slow him at all as he reassembled and reloaded his gun. If he used you as he did Lucrecia, you are in considerable danger.  
  
What do you mean? She thought she could guess.  
  
Valentine's voice was flat. Hojo injected Lucrecia with Mako, Jenova, and an assortment of drugs. He did the same to Sephiroth. If I had not convinced Lucrecia to stop taking her treatments, she might have survived childbirth if Hojo permitted it.  
  
Elena nodded slowly. All right, Valentine.  
  
He spoke when she turned to leave. Elena. What do you know of Hojo?  
  
Enough to wish somebody'd shot him a long time ago, she said, turning back to face him. He did not look up from his gun.  
  
He did not sound surprised. Not an unusual opinion. Did Hojo speak of Aeris?  
  
No. He didn't talk to me at all, if he could help it. She shook her head. He never much liked the Turks.  
  
he said, may be my fault. Hojo ... held grudges.  
  
She almost asked, and then changed her mind. She considered. We find anything out about Aeris, we'll pass it on.  
  
He did look up at that. With the corollary that dead men cannot tell the living anything? he asked, sounding very slightly amused.  
  
I like being among the living.  
  
I hope, he said deliberately, you can remain there.  
  
Elena left. Tifa passed her on the way down the stairs, and the bunkroom door slammed as she reached the top of the stairs. Reno was leaning against the wall, a cigarette dangling from one hand; Rude was sitting on the second step.  
  
You look like hell, Reno said, sneaking an arm around her waist. C'mere, I can make you feel better.  
  
She dug her elbow into his side. Do you ever give up?  
  
He winced but refused to let go. Turks aren't supposed to give up, remember? C'mon, loosen up, he said, resting his chin on her head.  
  
She jabbed him with her elbow again, knocked both of them off balance when the ship lurched, and ended up sitting on his lap. You could've just asked, you know, Reno smirked. You can sit on my lap any time.  
  
Elena smacked him, got up, sat down next to Rude, and promptly dozed off. She woke up for good fifteen minutes outside of Kalm; Rude handed her the keys to the gatehouse and said Strife had declared that only she was going with them.  
  
Can't blame him, I guess, Elena said with a sigh, dropping the keys in her pocket. Must have been really out of it not to hear him.  
  
Rude nodded. They're up on deck.  
  
Elena tried to smooth out her rumpled suit, sighed, and went up on deck. At least Strife and Wallace didn't look much better. The rest of Avalanche was still below-decks.   
  
Refugee camps had been set up all around the town, though there was a clear space large enough for the Highwind outside the city gates. Even there, the sound and smell of that many people was nearly overwhelming. Kalm itself wasn't much better; the normally sleepy town was clearly overwhelmed by the refugees, and the natives were clustered in groups grumbling among themselves.  
  
Look at them kids, Wallace said, shaking his head. Think nothing was wrong with the world.  
  
Elena looked over at the dozen or so kids playing some sort of noisy, active game in front of the church and grinned. Those are slum kids. They're used to the world being messed up.   
  
Which way? Wallace said gruffly, looking away from the kids.  
  
Elena pointed to the guardhouse. Over there. Come on. She fished the key from her pocket as they walked over to a small house backed onto the wall. There was a Soldier Third Class leaning back in his chair in the tiny front room, legs kicked up on a rickety table and a mug of beer in hand; he slammed the beer hastily on the table, nearly spilling it, as he swung his feet to the floor and stood up. He shoved slightly disheveled blond hair out of his face and snapped to attention.  
  
Miss Elena! He saw Strife and Wallace and his eyes widened. What's going on? he demanded, reaching for his sword. Strife reached for his sword and Wallace raised his gunarm.  
  
Elena cursed herself for forgetting the Soldiers left on duty against rescue attempts by Avalanche. At ease, Soldier! she snapped, racking her brains for an explanation. Well, maybe a little bit of the truth would work here. The situation's changed. Strife and Wallace backed down a bit, still wary; she could feel Wallace's hostility.  
  
he said, looking at them warily.  
  
Soldier - Thomas Kirtland, right?  
  
Yes, ma'am! he said, standing a bit straighter. Tseng had told her once that remembering names made people think better about you; she'd made a point of finding out who was assigned to guard the hostages. And then, she thought ruefully, she'd promptly forgotten about them.  
  
Kirtland, the President is dead, along with all the other executives except the Secretary of Urban Development. she said flatly. He's decided to release the hostages. What's their condition?  
  
Kirtland's blue eyes widened with shock. Yes, ma'am, he said automatically, getting out of the way. Condition unchanged since your last visit. They're still pretty upset about the lady's daughter, though. Little girl's prob'ly napping, she usually does round this time, and the lady's prob'ly having some coffee.  
  
Thank you, Kirtland. You're relieved; I suggest you find your partner and inform him of the situation.  
  
Kirtland looked at Strife and Wallace, thought about arguing, and decided not to. Yes, ma'am. He picked up his beer and walked out past them, but left the door open behind him. Elena shook her head, walked back into the kitchen, and unlocked the door into the old guardhouse. She turned on the lights on the narrow, steep stairs and went up; Wallace was frowning dangerously. The door at the top tended to jam, and she had to shove it to get it open once she'd unlocked it; it wasn't nearly as difficult as usual.  
  
Miss Elmyra was sitting at the table, a cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin in front of her. She looked up, alarmed, then blinked in disbelief. Cloud? Barret?  
  
Sorry we took so long, Barret said. There was a thump, running footsteps, and Marlene ran into the room.  
  
Daddy? _Daddy!_ she yelled, and flung herself at Barret.  
  
Marlene!' He picked her up and swung her around, then cradled her awkwardly with his gunarm when she burst into tears. He sat down at the table and stroked her hair gently with his one hand.  
  
You're free to go, Elena said to Miss Elmyra, and walked back down the stairs; Strife stomped down to be sure she didn't lock the doors behind her. He almost said something, then shrugged and watched as she left.  
  
Kirtland and his partner were waiting, wanting orders; without any better ideas, she told them to find any other military personnel they could and go organize the refugee camps. A young nun called the children in for dinner, and the square became a lot quieter. She sighed, wishing for some dinner herself, and leaned up against the water-tower in the center of the square. She should probably see if there was any room left at the inn, or they'd have to take over the gatehouse.  
  
They might have to take the gatehouse over anyway; Kalm was stuffed to the gills with people. Refugees had found relatives, the camps were overflowing, and people were probably renting closets for apartment prices, not that there was anything unusual about _that_. It was common practice on the Plate. Junon might have been a better bet, but it wasn't likely to be _much_ better. Strife walked out of the gatehouse and came over a few minutes later.  
  
Told Cid to let the other two loose, he said. Should be here any time.  
  
She nodded. Fine. So what happens now?  
  
He shrugged. We go after Sephiroth. You're not our problem right now.  
  
Suit yourself, she replied. We'll be around.  
  
He shrugged and walked off when Miss Elmyra and Wallace, with Marlene on his shoulder, came out of the gatehouse. They hurried off to the church just as Reno and Rude arrived.  
  
Turk suits and Turk intimidation got the last room, a tiny cramped spot in the attic. Reno insisted on visiting the Kalm bar; it was crowded, smoky, and loud, just the way Reno liked it. Rude bought Kalm's speciality - spicy sausages with potatoes and onions, Elena bought the beer, and Reno got into a brawl. Elena told him firmly he'd be paying his own dry cleaning bill and went back to the inn after her third beer.   
  
Even Reno's off-key drunken singing didn't wake her up.  



	15. Reeve: Down in the Underground

This Fragile Life: Reeve: Down in the Underground Kallah 

He didn't know what had happened to his shirt. Or his jacket, for that matter. 

He might have ripped them off and torn them up for impromptu bandages, somewhere back there when he'd been shoving people into the elevators to the slums. Shinra secret, only for emergencies ... well, Shinra was dead and if a big flaming rock wasn't an emergency, he'd ... go work at the Saucer in a chocobo suit. His hair kept getting into his eyes; it was singed around the edges. A holstered gun was hanging on his belt; the soldier who'd practically forced it on him had told him people were turning into raving lunatics, for god's sake take the gun and some spare ammo. Cait Sith's controls were hanging in a pack on the other side of his belt. 

The lunatics hadn't been violent; he'd managed to find a few reasonably sane people and send them in the direction of the elevators. He was going down by an engineer's tunnel that would drop him in Sector Two; he had to hurry or the tunnel might collapse. He tripped over something, and looked down. An arm. 

A man's arm, in a familiar uniform - although the blue was almost invisible under the gore. Heidegger. If there were any more pieces of him around, Reeve couldn't see them. He was too numb to have any reaction other than an inane thought about not having to hear him complain about how soft people were these days. 

Something moved; Reeve grabbed a piece of metal, dropping it with a clatter when it burned his fingers and palms. Whatever it was, it moved again. He walked warily closer, wincing at the pain in his hands. 

Red and black and red-streaked gold - dammit, Cloud had said Scarlet was dead. Scarlet should be dead, from what Cloud and Vincent and Elena had said about the fight. 

She let out a hoarse, thin cry of pain, and Reeve started toward her, then stopped. This was Scarlet, and no matter how badly she was wounded, she was dangerous. She struggled to move another few inches, and collapsed into a boneless heap. He walked cautiously closer, until she registered the noise and managed to look up at him. 

Her face was cut and torn, one eye and one nostril sealed shut with clotted blood; the open eye wasn't focusing on anything, maybe even not seeing anything. A few steps closer, and he could see the horrible burns over her body, that her dress had burned away and her stockings had melted into her skin. 

He felt vaguely sick; Scarlet had been capable of driving him right to the edge of homicide, but even then, all he'd wanted to do was shoot her, or break her neck, just make her stop whatever she'd been doing. She made a tiny sound of pain and began to cough, bloody spume trickling out of her mouth. Her hair was burned off in places, and what was left was streaked liberally with blood. 

She turned her head when he knelt down next to her; her eye seemed fixed on his face, but he didn't know if she recognized him. He would have been surprised if she was capable of recognizing anything. The gun wasn't as heavy as he expected and warm from the heat in the air, painful on his burned hands; Scarlet closed her eye when he put the muzzle against her forehead. He pulled the trigger, the kick startling but not as strong as he'd expected; Scarlet's body jerked violently as a small spray of blood and brain matter came out of her skull. She lay limp and utterly still, though her skin was hot to the touch. There was no pulse, and he pulled his hand away, wiping it on his pants. 

He stayed there a moment, staring at her corpse with a sort of blank fascination. Then he put away the gun, shoved himself to his feet, and turned his back on her to find the tunnel down. It was still there, and he hurried as fast as he could, hoping none of Hojo's escaped pets had chosen this place as somewhere to hide. 

By the time he reached the bottom, his legs were shaking and he thought he'd never catch his breath again. Sector Two, when he stumbled out of the tunnel, was ominously quiet, and dark; Mako had never been supplied legally to the slums, but even the alternative power systems were failing. Someone had come up with candles and oil lamps, but the glow hardly cut through the darkness. Reeve blinked, willing his eyes to adjust, and cautiously walked forward. There were people huddled around their lights, most of them staring at nothing in particular; even the children weren't crying. 

Reeve stumbled several times, skinning his palms, ripping his pants, and making his cracked ribs ache. The sudden brightness when he turned a corner made his eyes water; it was only three or four lanterns, close together, but more lightthan he'd seen down here yet. He could just make out someone sitting near thelanterns. The figure turned toward him, then stood up. 

"Are you looking for help?" the man asked warily. 

Reeve frowned at the vaguely familiar voice, and stepped carefully into the light; the barrel of a shotgun followed his every move. "The Sisters at the orphanage know me ... Mother Superior said I'd be welcome." 

"Reeve," the man said, and swung the gun away from him. "Youmade it off the plate." He moved enough into the light that Reeve could make him out. "Where is Elena? 

"Kalm," Reeve replied, trying to remember the name. Alejandro, that was it. "She's not badly hurt." 

Alejandro studied him and nodded. "How badly injured are you?" 

"A few cracked ribs," he said. "My hands are burned, but they hurt too much for the wounds to be serious." 

"The Sisters will take care of you," Alejandro said, pointing to the door. Reeve stumbled on the way, Alejandro catching his elbow to keep him on his feet. 

Two cots had been stuffed into the foyer, with two women and five children huddled asleep on them under a few thin blankets. There was a tired-looking soldier sitting in a chair with a rifle across his knees; he looked up, seemed to recognize Reeve and Alejandro, and looked back down. An exhausted young Sister who Reeve didn't recognize cleaned his hands and found a bit of salve to put on them; there was nothing to be done about his ribs. 

Alejandro spoke to the soldier and went back outside. The soldier heaved himself to his feet, left his rifle on the chair and said, "There's a room upstairs. Think you can make it?" 

Reeve looked at the stairs. "Think so." 

"Come on," the man said. Reeve, after the first flight, was concentrating entirely on keeping his legs moving. After the second flight, he was trying not to simply collapse; the soldier gave him some support, enough to make it up the last flight. He sagged against the wall and caught his breath. 

"You could have run," the soldier said. 

Reeve blinked at him. "Up those stairs?" 

The soldier shook his head. "No. Out of Midgar." 

Reeve frowned. He could have hitched a ride on the Highwind, but nobody should know about - oh. He probably meant pulling executive privilege and commandeering a helicopter. "Yeah," he admitted. "Guess I could have." 

"So why didn't you?" 

He couldn't honestly say he hadn't thought about it; he could have hitched a ride to Kalm, at least, maybe gone all the way to the Crater. But he'd be less use than even Cait (which was rather embarrassing, especially since Cait hadn't been built as a battle robot), and someone had to organize the exodus off the Plate. "It's my city," he finally said. 

"Hm. Come on." The room was halfway down, a tiny space crammed with two blanket-crammed pallets, a tiny lamp on a rickety table and a chamber-pot. Reeve collapsed onto the pallet and was asleep almost immediately. 

He woke some time later to the sound of someone snoring; the room was dark, he'd have to wait for dawn. But there wouldn't be a dawn here in the slums, and there weren't any windows to let it in anyway. He closed his eyes against the darkness, then opened them again, realizing that the gun and Cait's controls were missing; he felt cautiously around the edge of the bed until his hand brushed cold metal and a lumpy pouch. 

He couldn't really do much with Cait without waking up whoever was snoring on the other pallet, but maybe he could look in and find out what was going on; he might be able to find out how much longer they had. He sat and picked up thecontrols, fitting the gloves over his hands, and the headset with goggles over his head; he tapped the controls on the side of the headset, and the Highwind's bridge appeared on the goggles. 

The only people on the bridge were two of Cid's pilots; the third was probably sleeping. Outside, he could hear snoring from the bunkroom, loud enough for two or three people. Cait hopped up the stairs to the deck; Vincent was often up on deck at night, and sometimes Nanaki as well. The night sky looked sick, even through Cait's greyscale sensors; Meteor was a scar of light in the distance. There was no sign of Vincent or Nanaki, but he heard voices to the left. 

Cid was leaning on the railing, looking out over the water; Yuffie was standing nearby, close enough to talk. 

"Shut up, brat," Cid said, sounding remarkably calm. 

"Whatever, geezer," Yuffie replied, sounding tired but not annoyed. "Man, can't we just get there already? I hate waiting." 

"You say 'are we there yet' and I'm throwing you off," Cid grumbled. "Fuck, kid, what're you in such a damn hurry for? This ain't a damn joyride." 

Yuffie shrugged. "What, I'm supposed to want to sit around, listen to Vincent being depressed and Barret bitching?" She thumped the railing. "Gawd, Vincent acts like killing that freak's gonna be a crime or something." 

Cid shrugged and lit a cigarette. "Huh. What's it to you, brat? Wasn't your town that burned." 

"Bombs took care of that," Yuffie said. "Guess you know all about those, huh?" 

Cid blew a stream of smoke into the wind and finally said, "Guess so." 

Yuffie nodded and leaned on the railing, looking out over the sea. Reeve expected her to yell at Cid, but she was quiet instead. Cid knocked ash off the end of his cigarette. 

"Must have been near the end of the war," he said. "Some groundhog swore up and down that a little girl executed his buddies. Didn't believe it back then." 

"Maybe you should have," the teenager replied. 

Reeve turned Cait to go back belowdecks; he didn't have to spy on them anymore, and whatever had prompted this conversation, it was none of his business. He'd have to try again later to find out how much time was left. 

"Don't puke all over the ship," Cid said. "Gotta hit Rocket Town tonight and the Crater tomorrow."   
Reeve, sending Cait down the stairs, couldn't make out Yuffie's reply. 

When Cait was safely stowed back on the bridge, Reeve set him to recharge and took off the headset and the gloves. He put them away carefully and lay back on the bed, uncomfortably reminded just how little he knew Avalanche. He wouldn't have been surprised by Vincent talking to Tifa, or to Cloud. Nanaki and Vincent wouldn't have been surprising. Cid and Yuffie were some of the least introspective and most argumentative people he knew. 

Two days. In two days, what could he do? Nothing would drive the people left on the plate to the slums. If Avalanche won, if Meteor was stopped ... Midgar would still be uninhabitable without the reactors to power it. No water, no sewers, no power; they could burn imported wood for fuel, but the supplieswouldn't last that long. 

Junon couldn't handle an influx of refugees. Junon was going to have power problems itself, when the reactor was shut down. Cameron would - he hadn't heard from Cameron. He hadn't heard from Cameron since she'd brought him those reports. He'd been so overwhelmed with Turks and Avalanche and Hojo and Scarlet that he'd never followed up. He'd lost his cell phone somewhere along the line, even if the thing would work properly down here. 

He was too awake, now; he had no idea how long he'd slept, or what time it was, but maybe there would be someone else up outside. He left the room quietly, closing the door carefully behind him, and walked downstairs; the orphanage was very quiet. All the books were gone, probably sent off with the orphanage's children; the women and children were sleeping soundly on their cots. 

"May I help you?" 

He turned, startled; the speaker was a man close to his own age, probably a little older, dressed with black with a white collar. 

"You startled me, Father." 

"You're Reeve, yes?" At his nod, the priest went on, "I'm Father Thomas. I have a pot of tea in the office, if you'd like a cup." 

Reeve followed him down the hall to the office and sat down. The priest poured him a cup of tea. 

"I should pass on Mother Superior's thanks," the priest said. "With your help, all the children were evacuated out of the city." 

"Good, I'm glad they made it." He doubted anywhere was really safe, but at least there wasn't a giant flaming rock hanging over Kalm. He hoped Marlene and Elmyra were all right; they were still better off there than here. Elena could take care of herself, probably better than he took care of himself; even if she couldn't, Rude and Reno would take care of her.   
The priest poured two cups of tea. "I hope you take it plain," he said. 

"That's fine," Reeve said, accepting the cup. 

The Sisters and the children had gone to the chapterhouse in Kalm; the chapterhouse in Junon had been overwhelmed with people fleeing Midgar. Reeve found himself absently doodling plans for a solar power plant on the priest's desk blotter. 

"That's quite interesting," the priest said, brushing away Reeve's apologies. "I can see how you reached the top so quickly." 

Reeve shook his head. "I got there because I walked on enough people," he said. "Talent alone doesn't - didn't - count for much in Shinra, at least past actual repairs." 

"Did you want to walk on people?" 

"No. But you get high enough, and it's either keep climbing or fall ... and falling's even worse." The Turks took care of anyone who fell. It was usually discreet, of course, easily passed off as a suicide or sudden heart attack. But it was swift and inescapable. Or it had been, at least; the Turks hadn't had time to go find Palmer. "Not many people get to just retire from Shinra. Now ... Both Presidents Shinra are dead, nobody knows where Palmer is, Hojo went nuts and shot himself up with god knows what and died, Heidegger got blown to bits and Scarlet's lying up there somewhere with a bullet in her head. I don't know if my engineers, my secretary, or any of the staff got anywhere safely, and I can't even be sure that all the reactors won't blow up if Meteor hits. Of course, if it does, it probably won't matter anyway." Scarlet was - he didn't regret it, really. She'd done enough to deserve being shot. It was just everything else that got to him. 

He'd given his secretary his cat, his laptop, and the cash he'd had on hand and told her to go to Junon and give everything to Cameron. It might not have been one of his better ideas, now that he realized he didn't know whether Cameron was all right. He wondered if she'd even made it out of the city; he'd been too busy trying to get people into the slums by then to have time to think about it. He knew Elena had made it to Kalm; Vincent had said something about not being convinced leaving the Turks in charge of the remaining military was wise. Reeve wasn't all that sure it was either, but leaving no one in charge was probably worse. The Turks at least could command respect and keep the soldiers under control. 

The priest poured him another cup of tea. "These last months must have been terrible." 

"I didn't have a lot of time to think," Reeve replied. "This is the most unstructured -" _unwatched, Turk-free_ "time I've had since ... since Sector 7 fell." 

"I imagine that kept you busy. It certainly kept us busy. We had ... quite a few laypeople from Sector 7. They had family here." 

Busy. He hadn't slept for the better part of a week, trying to shut down all the power leaks into the ruins, get the biohazard teams moving, reclaim what few bodies were recognizable, and arrange a mass memorial service for the dead. Technically, memorials and the like were the Mayor's department, but he was no use at them. He made a decent speechwriter, though. Reeve wondered briefly what had happened to the Mayor; he'd abandoned the city early on. Maybe he'd embezzled some funds and flown to what was left of Mideel. "What did you do?" 

"What could we do? We held a memorial for the dead, and we counseled the living," the priest said sadly. "Some of our people died fighting the Shinra because of Sector 7. Some of them turned to drink and drugs. Some of them committed suicide." 

"The Plate has - had - nothing without Shinra. The liquor stores were were doing booming business right up until the end." He sighed and changed the subject; the nightmares had been held down by exhaustion, and he couldn't afford them now. "What are you doing now, Father? There's a lot of people down here now." 

"We're trying to organize food, clothing and blanket distributions," Father Thomas replied. "Counseling the living, burying the dead." 

"There isn't much time," Reeve said. "Maybe a week. The pillars ... if Avalanche fails, the pillars will be the strongest place if Meteor hits. I don't know how much it will matter if Meteor hits." 

"We need to get supplies and people there," Father Thomas said, quickly making a note, "as soon as possible. How do you know how long it will be?" 

Reeve sighed. "I know Avalanche." Not very well, but enough for now. "I ... well, I lost track somewhere along the line. I was supposed to spy on them for Shinra, and then I was spying on Shinra for them, all at the same time, and I don't know what I'm doing now. Other than trying to save something, somewhere." 

Father Thomas looked at him, troubled, but said only, "I see. I hope I can trust you to be working to save the people here and now?' 

Reeve nodded. "Here, now, and hoping there's something left to be saved afterward." 

"Then perhaps you can help us as soon as you've rested." The priest stood and pulled a pile of clothes from the shelf. "You do need some clothes." 

Reeve looked down at his bare chest and stained, ragged pants. "I guess I do," he said. "There isn't much time, Father." 

"If you're sure," the priest said, and at Reeve's nod, "Well, why don't you get dressed while I find you room to work?" 

The clothes were large and somewhat musty, but clean; Reeve raked his fingers through his hair to get out the worst of the tangles before the priest came back. Father Thomas returned with a stack of clothing, a box full of mixed tools and another box full of broken appliances - space heaters, lanterns, radios, toasters. "If you come with me, the children's playroom is empty -you'll have plenty of room to work. One of the Sisters wants to store these there; if you need something concrete to do, feel free to work on them." 

Reeve took a box and followed the priest to a large room filled with child-sized furniture in various states of disrepair, with an overflowing toy-box in one corner. "You'll probably be more comfortable on the floor. The children were quite upset at having to leave their toys, but we couldn't get both children and toys out." The toys were as shabby as the rest of the room. "I'll leave you to work. If you need anything, I'll be in my office for another few hours." 

"Thank you, Father." Reeve changed clothes, began triaging the appliances, and thought about where he could scavenge battery packs to get them to run. Space heaters would be particularly useful. He wouldn't be able to get anything from Avalanche for hours, until the rest of the crew woke up. 

He worked for several hours, slept, then followed Alejandro to all the pillars to cache supplies and disable the destruction mechanisms, as others marked out places in hopes of a semi-orderly exodus. He came back, ate some bread, and hooked into Cait; it was daylight, but no one was talking much. Tifa was sleeping. Yuffie was busy sharpening her shuriken and cleaning off her makeshift armor. Cid was banging something around and swearing, and Vincent was watching the water. Cloud and Nanaki were on the bridge. 

"Reeve," Cloud said warily. "What's happening?" 

"Nothing in Midgar," he replied. "Yet, anyway. Everybody's kinda in shock." 

"What about the Shinra?" 

"That would be me," he said. "The soldiers wanted someone with a plan that made sense; they're not interested in making trouble right now, they just want to live like everyone else. The Junon branch might be up to something, but there's nothing they can do right now." 

Cloud nodded and relaxed slightly. Of course, he could probably hack Cait in two without breaking a sweat. "So what are you here for?" 

"Trying to find out what's going on here," he said. "You heading on out?" 

"Not yet," Nanaki said. "We still need to replenish our supplies and repair equipment." 

"Besides, you and the girls insisted the rest of us had to wash our socks." Cloud grinned at the cat. "So we borrowed Shera's washer and dryer last night." 

"They stank," Nanaki said firmly. "So did most of the rest of your clothing."

"Yeah? Yuffie thought you needed a bath ..." 

Nanaki flattened his ears and changed the subject. "We aren't going tothe crater for another few hours." 

"Sephiroth." Cloud frowned, eyes distant. "Think we all should do some thinking before we go after him. Reeve, you coming?" 

"Yep. Cait's body, my brain," he said. 

"Okay. Come back in four hours. We'll have a meeting then." 

"Right, Cloud." Cait bounced back to his spot at the back of the bridge, and Reeve shut him down to conserve his power. 

"Is it starting?" Alejandro asked. 

"Not yet. But soon." Reeve rubbed his neck; for some reason, possibly Cait's height, his neck got sore after plugging into Cait. "They're meeting in four hours. I'm going to get some sleep before then." 

Alejandro nodded. "What about Meteor?" 

"No change yet," Reeve replied. "Probably best to go ahead andget people moved." 

******** 

The orphanage was quiet, almost everyone else huddled around the pillars. Alejandro was sleeping on a pallet nearby, Neve reloading her pistol. 

"What happened?" she asked. 

"Nothing yet," Reeve said, carefully removing all Cait's controls and setting them on the makeshift table. "What are we all fighting for? I want us all to understand that. Save the planet... for the future of the planet... Sure, that's all fine. But really, is that really how it is?" "We're just ... we have a little time before Meteor hits. Time to step back and think a little." He stood up and stretched. "I think I'm going to take a walk." 

"A walk. You want to take a walk." 

Reeve shrugged. "I think better when I'm walking or fixing something. And there's nothing fixable left." Alejandro had found several battery packs and various kinds of batteries; Reeve had cannibalized parts to get a few space heaters, electric lamps and flashlights working. 

Neve collected flashlights and guns. "Fine. A walk."

The slums were darker than before, all the lamps, lanterns and torches takenwith the people sheltering around the pillars. Bits of metal and glass glittered in the the light from their flashlights, once the red gleam of a cat's eyes; the cat hissed and backed away when Reeve reached out to it. Dogs barked somewhere distantly. A doll lay abandoned in the dirt, glass eyesstaring blankly at the ceiling; its dress had been often mended, the crooked smile repainted. Reeve picked it up, dusted it off, and tucked it under his arm. There were signs of recent fights between sectors, and monster incursions into sectors. 

Sector 5 seemed reasonably safe. The tent cities had been taken down, forgotten things scattered over the ground: toy soldiers, a t-shirt, a broken plate. The ruined church was empty, the flowers still blooming. 

"Who got flowers to grow down here?" Neve asked. 

"A woman named Aeris," he replied, breathing in the scent of the flowers. "I ... never really met her." He'd known she'd been sought for and finally re-captured, but with Sector 7 and his reactors, he'd been too busy to investigate Hojo's lab, even if he'd wanted to. Hojo's lab was - had been - probably his least favorite place in Shinra, after Scarlet's office. And once she'd thrown in her lot with Avalanche ... 

Well, at the time he hadn't had any idea what was going on, really. He'd hated Avalanche for blowing up the reactors and for giving President Shinra an excuse to collapse Sector 7. He'd finished up Cait and sent him along with them to have a chance to get back at them, to turn them in to the Turks and see them get the punishment they deserved. 

Nanaki had been the first one to shake his composure; he knew Hojo was insane, but he hadn't realized how complicit President Shinra had been in his insanity. Nanaki had had nothing to do with destroyed reactors or fallen plates; he'd been a prisoner along with Aeris. But handing Avalanche over meant sending Nanaki back to Hojo. 

Vincent had been locked in a crypt for almost thirty years before this had started, and Vincent had enough demons, literal and figurative, without lettingHojo at him again. And that was only if Hojo survived the encounter; Vincent would probably kill him, and find out who had betrayed them. Reeve couldn't decide, and really didn't want to think about whether Vincent, Vincent's demons, or the Turks were going to kill him more painfully. And then there was Yuffie, who'd been busy with highway robbery before meeting Cloud; he wasn't sure she wouldn't have helped blow up reactors (though blowing up the Shinra building itself was more her style), but she hadn't blown anything up. 

He'd thought Avalanche was just a pack of semi-delusional radicals with bombs, that Lifestream was just a story, that Mako was just an unusual energy source, that the wasteland around Midgar was from pollution. 

"There's somewhere else I'd like to go," he said to Neve, and walked through the sector to Elmyra's house. No one seemed to have looted it yet, and the flowers in the yard were fine. He suspected Aeris could have made flowers bloom almost anywhere. 

He'd been wrong about so many things, done so much damage because he was convinced he was right. Even Barret had been right about the Lifestream, even if his real motivation was just wanting to destroy. Cloud had been delusional ... but not about Lifestream, or the Planet, only his past, and that was Hojo'sfault, for cracking his soul down the middle. He'd never really believed in souls before; church had been a social formality. He believed in machines, and buildings, and the work of human hands. God had been sort of a old man with an unpredictable temper; his machines and his blueprints were predictable. Apply this much stress here, and this would break, unless these reinforcements equalized the load. 

"I never was a religious man," he said, more for the sound of a voice than anything. 

"Mm. The nuns scold me regularly for not appearing at services often enough." 

"I went to church - Mulrond - when I was a kid," he said. "But it never really meant anything to me." He touched one of the flowers, pollen staining his fingers. "Signed up with Shinra, and religion's a nice company image - President Shinra liked appearing at the 'right' church with the 'right' people - and nothing more than that. Being really religious was a good way to get fired." 

"Mm. So you stopped being religious at all?" 

"I guess I'd really stopped in college," he said. "But at Shinra I was mostly busy trying to do my job and not get eaten alive. I tried ... not to be as bad as some of my colleagues." He'd mostly been busy , budgets and maintenance and firing incompetent workers, and bribing the good ones into sticking around. "After a while, it was just habit." 

And then came reactor bombings and Sector 7, Cait spying on Avalanche and himself on his own company. After Sector 7 ... he knew perfectly well whatgood in Shinra there was tended to corrupt quickly. He'd heard about Corel, but ... he'd never been to Corel. He hadn't watched Corel burn, but he'd seen Sector 7 fall. He'd tried to protect what he could, after that, from Avalanche and his own company. 

So he'd spied on both of them, trying to keep his city in one piece and get the people who'd blown up parts of it. And he'd kidnapped Miss Elmyra and betrayed Avalanche to Shinra. If he hadn't, he'd be dead. But because he had, Aeris was dead, and Cloud had been cracked apart; Reeve wondered if Cloud had really pulled himself back together, or if this was as much an illusion as the earlier Cloud. Reeve himself had solved the puzzle to shrink the Temple into the Black Materia. Without that, Meteor wouldn't be hanging in the sky, and Aeris might not be dead ... and Cloud might still think he was someone else. Reeve didn't know what to think about Cloud. Maybe something else would have broken him. Maybe not. 

If he'd betrayed Avalanche again, it would have handed Cloud over to Hojo. Nothing could have put Cloud back together again, if Hojo had him long enough to break him. Reeve didn't think it would take very long. 

"You think we can take some of these flowers back? People might feel better with a few flowers." 

"Aeris is dead," he said quietly. "But I don't think she'd mind at all." Aeris had grown her flowers to give them away as much as sellthem, and she'd never seemed very interested in holding onto things or money. She'd been very kind and generous, too much so for her own good; he wondered how she'd survived in the slums. But then again, the Turks had been keeping an eye on her, and no one interfered with anything the Turks claimed. 

She might well have died anyway. They were going to the Temple no matter what, and the Temple would have led Aeris to the City ... and the others would have followed, and Sephiroth might still have killed her. But none of them would have sacrificed themselves for the Black Materia, or he didn't think so; and maybe at least there wouldn't be a Meteor. 

"What happened to her?" Neve asked. 

"She was murdered," he said. "It was at least quick. But go ahead and take a few flowers, she wouldn't mind. Really." 

He could sit out everything else. He never had to pick up Cait's controls again. Cloud might not even say anything about it, and the others weren't his problem. But he was responsible for this, even if he didn't know how much. He was partly responsible for Aeris' death. Those were good reasons, really, but were they the truth? He was going along, even if it was as Cait and not himself, because he wanted to see this through to the end. He hated leaving things unfinished 

He helped Neve get the flowers and went back to the orphanage. Cloud had given them some time, enough for Yuffie and Nanaki to go home and come back again; Reeve spent it getting everyone situated around the pillars, moving supplies, and sleeping in preparation. Alejandro and Neve insisted on staying at the orphanage with him; he was grateful for the company, even if they were there more to keep him under control than to keep him company. He washed stale bread down with stale water, took a deep breath, and plugged into Cait. 

"Well lookey-here. The Shinra manager's come back," Barret said. 

"I may be stuffed, but I'll work really hard!" Reeve said. "Midgar is as prepared as it's likely to get." 

"Guess that's everyone," Barret said. 

"What about Yuffie?" Nanaki asked. "She isn't back yet." 

"Her? She ain't coming back," Barret said. "Least she didn't take our materia this time." 

Yuffie promptly dropped out of the open ceiling and shook her fist at him. "How can you say that? I was sick as a dog all the way back!" She bounced in place and shook her fist again. "I'm not running away at the last minute and letting you guys get all the glory!" 

Cloud stepped forward and tossed her a package of seasickness medicine, which she caught easily. "Welcome back, Yuffie." 

That stopped her for a minute, and she grinned suddenly. "You're being nice all of a sudden, what happened?" she teased, and ducked around to stand over by Nanaki. She swallowed the medicine quickly. 

"Thanks everyone," Cloud said. 

"Didn't come back for you, spiky-headed jerk," Barret said. "Came back for Marlene. She's all that matters to me. Guess it's just my feelings. Got nothin' else to say." 

"And someone else," Nanaki added. "Someone who isn't here with us now, but left us a window of opportunity." 

Cloud walked to the front of the bridge and bowed his head. "Aeris. She smiled until the end. That smile will just be frozen on her face if we don't stop this." He paused and looked up, then turned around to face them. "She should have reached the Planet, Holy should have moved. Something's holding her. We have to let her go, set her free." 

Cid looked around. "Anyone changed their mind?" 

No one had. Cloud nodded. "I'm counting on you, Cid." 

"Yeah, yeah, there's a couple levers here that've been buggin' me for a while now." He ran over to the instrument panel with a distinctly gleeful look. "Let me try them out." 

"This is our last battle. Our target is the North Cave. Our enemy is Sephiroth!" Cloud stepped forward, determination clear on his face and in his voice. "So let's move out!" 

Cid flipped the levers, and the Highwind started to shake and shudder, metal screaming and the sound of great gears grinding. Yuffie dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around Nanaki's neck; Nanaki had his paws splayed on the floor with his claws out. Reeve hadCait drop on top of the moogle and hang on; it was undignified, but less so than getting thrown all over the deck. He couldn't see what the others were doing from that position, but he heard Cid whooping like a kid who'd just gotten the best present in the entire world. 

The flight smoothed out after a few seconds, and Cait climbed back to his proper place. 

"We're almost there," Cloud said. "We're on our way, Sephiroth." 

"I'm gonna stick it to him," Cid exulted. 

Red alarm lights flashed and an alarm sound. "What's going on?" Cloud demanded. 

"Losing control! Some force messing with the controls!" 

The Highwind's three pilots came running in and charged directly to the panel to help. 

"Get the hell outta here, flunkies! Didn't I tell you all to go home!?" Cid shouted, not daring to look away from the controls for more than a second. They were moving of their volition, sending the ship into a dive. 

"Captain, this is our home!" 

"Stop trying to act so cool," Cid grumbled, trying not to sound pleased. "All right, you jokers, hold me down with everything you got! Geronimo!" He grabbed the controls and gave them a hard shove, and the Highwind shook and rattled as it hit top speed. Cait dropped down onto the moogle's head until the flight stablized. 

No one said very much on the way; they rearranged materia and checked weapons, dozed a little, and waited. Reeve spent the interval adjusting Cait's controls and refining the sensors to give the best report through his equipment. 

"Ten minutes," Cid announced finally. 

Now people got up and moved around. He heard Yuffie and Cloud discussing motion sickness - Cloud had gotten sick when he'd been in the Army, and Yuffie trying (rather half-heartedly) to talk Cloud into signing all the materia over after the battle. 

"The time for flying is past," Vincent said quietly; Reeve nearly jumped out of his skin, because he hadn't heard the man come up. Metal-toed boots should make noise. Nanaki padded up next to him. 

"Yeah, it sure is," he replied. 

"And the gate to tomorrow is in the depths of the earth," the other man mused. "Perhaps it is appropriate. I am relieved to be reaching the end of this road." 

"You think we're not coming back?" 

Vincent shrugged. "I do not know. Even if we win and live, it will be a new road, all the sins of the past expiated." 

Cloud was speaking to Tifa up front; he said something, posing, and Tifa clapped her hands, suddenly looking delighted and energetic again.

Cid left one of the pilots at the control and stomped around the bridge, saying something that made Tifa and Cloud both laugh, punching Yuffie in the shoulder (she punched back), and wandered back to Cait and Vincent. 

"Hey, Reeve. Ever seen that play Loveless? " he asked. 

"Yes," Reeve said. He'd seen it four times, actually; twice with a girl in high school, once with Cameron, and once on his own. 

"Yeah? Really?" he replied. "They've been doin' that play every summer since I was a kid, an' I remember seein' it just once. I was in Midgar interviewing to be a pilot. Had some free time and thought I'd catch the play everyone was talking about." He shrugged. "Now, I'm no big fan of the theater or anything, but this thing put me to sleep, just like I thought it would. Finally during the last scene, the guy next to me woke me up tellin' me my snorin' was too loud." Nanaki's tail twitched, and he dropped his jaw in what Reeve suspected was a grin. "So about all I really remember of that play is the end." 

Reeve remembered too, the lines coming to mind even as Cid repeated them with over-dramatic gestures. 

_Do you really have to leave?_ At the last show he'd seen, the actress had said those lines so quietly, as if she already knew the answer and still hoped to hear something different. 

_I promised. The people I love are waiting._ Just that - no recriminations, no excuses. He'd only told her the truth. 

She'd turned away then, not completely, but enough. _I don't understand. Not at all. But ... please take care of yourself. _Not anger, but bewilderment and loss. 

_Of course. I'll come back to you. Even if you don't promise to wait. I'll return knowing that you'll be here._

"I remember thinking when I heard those lines, 'Damn! What the hell's he talkin' about?' But, you know... now I'm not so sure." He looked away and rubbed his chin, thinking of something or someone else. "I think I understand." 

"I wouldn't have expected that from you, Cid," Vincent said. 

"Me either," Cid said, just before the pilot yelled for him. Heyelled back, insulting the pilot's intelligence and competence, then stomped back over and landed the Highwind himself. 

Reeve was appalled at the sheer size of the Crater; Jenova, or whatever Jenova had landed in, must have been huge. Traveling down the crater - climbing down unstable walls, sliding down patches of loose rock - took hours, and the wind was terrible. Vincent gave Tifa his cloak, and Barret, Cloud, and Cait huddled together in front to shield everyone from the worst of the wind. The caves at the bottom were no warmer, but the wind was cut off at least. The ground here was crazed, jutting up in places and then falling down, and navigating that was painful; the edges were sharp with ice. Cait was going to need some repairs ifthey made it through, and everyone had bloody scratches and cuts. The tunnel opened out into a broad area with two more passages leading away. 

"We'll take a break," Cloud said, looking at Tifa. She was grey with exhaustion, and sat down with her back against a rock. 

Cid built a small fire, and Vincent boiled some of the store of water for packets of instant soup. Cloud took a bowl of soup to Tifa, who drained it; he hardly touched his soup and gave the rest to her. Yuffie sat near the fire, as close as she could without being scorched; Reeve dropped the moogle nearby. Cid slouched on the moogle's other side. Vincent sat next to Tifa; he didn't finish his soup either, and gave the rest to an apparently starved Tifa. Nanaki prowled the edge of the circle, watching the darkness beyond, occasionally pausing to lap at his soup. Tifa offered Vincent his cloak back and he shook his head. 

When Tifa had regained her normal color and didn't look quite so tired, Cloud got up. "We'll split up here. Call if you see anything. Cid." 

"Yeah?" 

"Take the left path. I'll take the right. Mark the walls so we can find you if we have to." 

After a few minutes of discussion, the rest of Avalanche split up. Tifa, Vincent, and Barret went with Cloud, the others with Cid. 

There were signs of human, or Cetra, handiwork here, and the further down they went, the more of them; stones were aligned too precisely, dead bushes grew too regularly, and occasional broken objects, like bottles and pots, littered the path. Cid left bold, vaguely obscene marks on the walls, less to keep from getting lost than to proclaim 'We were here'. The path split again after a while, and Cid looked at it for a while. 

"Better head down," he said, marking the appropriate wall. "Nanaki, take the rear. I'll be in front." 

They'd gone a fair distance down the path when Yuffie said, "Cid, listen." 

"What, kid?" Reeve, listening, finally sorted out not-so-distant scraping and thuds, like something large moving. 

Cid heard it too; he ground his cigarette under his boot. "Shit. Sounds like a goddamn dragon. Keep your guard up." 

"Maybe it just wants dinner." Yuffie didn't glance back up the path, though the line of her body suggested she was paying close attention. 

Cid shrugged. "Long as I'm not on the menu, I don't give a damn." 

They followed the path on down, Nanaki's tail providing almost as much light as the lanterns. The sound of the dragon never quite went away, and slowly got louder. The path was becoming a road, cracked and broken stones that had clearly been cut and placed, broken stumps that might have been lamps along the edges. There was a little more light here, though Reeve couldn't tell where it was coming from. 

"It's pacing us," Nanaki warned. 

"Damn. Clear area down there," Cid said, pointing. "Move!" 

The sound was getting much louder, practically on top of them by the time they got down the path to a broad stone-paved plaza. "Cait, you don't fight, you heal us." 

The dragon was huge, with fangs nearly the size of Cait's moogle. It roared, and Cid took advantage of its temporary distraction to drive his spear into a weak spot in the scales on its chest. Nanaki called down a barrier spell as Yuffie backflipped out of reach when the dragon tried to bite. The dragon inhaled. 

"Duck!" she shouted, and everyone flung themselves flat on the ground as the breath weapon crackled in the air above them. 

Cid scrambled to his feet and lunged at the weak spot again, his spear scrabbling over the scales when he missed. Yuffie slashed at the dragon's tender nose when it tried to bite; it screeched and lashed its tail, knocking Nanaki down. Cait tossed him a lesser potion and Nanaki got back to his feet; the cat attacked the dragon's nearest leg, trying to hamstring it. Cid managed to slash the dragon near the jaw when it tried to bite Nanaki. 

"Go for the joints!" he yelled. 

Yuffie jumped over the tail and slashed it near the base, a stream of black ichor erupting from the wound. The dragon howled and lashed its tail angrily, howling again as more ichor streamed from the wound; Cid was knocked flat, Nanaki out of reach, and Yuffie mistimed her jump and was knocked into a section of broken wall. 

Cait managed to cast a healing spell on Yuffie before having to dodge the dragon; he cast another one on Cid as Yuffie pushed herself to her feet. Reeve wasn't sure what she was doing - Cait's sensors were registered odd wind patterns, and a quick shift into thermal imaging showed gathering heat. Thethermal sensors showed a sudden discharge of heat at the dragon. 

The dragon screeched and yowled, thrashing wildly as whatever Yuffie was doingblasted it, and then fell down stunned with an almost-pitiful yowl. Cid stabbed it in the eye, shoving his spear in almost to the end, and the dragon convulsed violently and died. 

Cait cast a final healing spell on everyone and bounded over to Yuffie. Cid forced a potion down her throat and checked her for signs of concussion. 

"Anything broken, kid?" 

She shook her head and got somewhat unsteadily to her feet. "Nah, just bruised up. Come on, let's keep going." 

The plaza, with its cracked, broken and sometimes partly melted stones, led down to a ruined city. Reeve wondered how anything had survived the crash that made the Crater, but the ruined seashell buildings hadn't been damaged directly by impact; if they had, they'd be rubble. Instead, some were almost intact, others half-destroyed. The roofs had fallen in on some, and others had holes knocked in the walls. Some of the holes were scorched and melted, and some of the scrapes and slashes on the walls did not look to be monster damage. 

"Should we investigate?" Nanaki asked. 

"Haven't got time," Cid said, turning away from the city. "Come on, path's that way." 

They heard noises behind them, but the local monsters were more interested in scavenging the dragon than attacking them. Nothing else attacked them on theway down, along a path that became less and less man-made, though they heard quite a bit of noise, and saw a little green thing in a robe peer at them from on top of a rock. They eventually reached another cavern, with multiple paths converging into it, and a long, long series of floating rocks leading down. The others were there already. 

Cloud looked up, relief flickering in his eyes. "Took the long way?" 

"Guess so." Cid ground out a cigarette and lit another one. 

"Take a break," Cloud said. "We have a little time." 

Tifa was already gray with exhaustion, and sat down without grace or dignity; Barret handed her his half-full water-bottle and she drained it. Cloud dug a battered energy bar from his pocket and some kind of medicine and gave it to her, worry crinkling the edges of his eyes. Tifa looked like she wanted to refuse, but took them anyway. Reeve wondered what was wrong with her; she'd been sick rather often lately, and no one else seemed as utterly exhausted as she did. No wonder Cloud was worried; in that condition, she might not make it to Sephiroth, much less through the fight that was coming. 

Yuffie slumped down between the moogle and Nanaki. Cid sprawled nearby and cleaned some of the dragon blood from his spear. Cloud stared down into the pit, thinking. Vincent stood next to him, but faced the other way, watching for anything that might emerge from the caverns.

Once Tifa was looking better, Cloud turned back to them. "Okay, everyone. Move out!" Tifa handed Vincent back his cloak; he put it on and shrugged it into place. 

The stones underfoot seemed oddly less than solid. The light played tricks onCait's sensors, and the hiss and crackle of Lifestream was a constant, disquieting sound. The experience became quickly surreal, as the cavern above disappeared from view, leaving only an endless procession of stones floating in sourceless light. Shadows flickered in and out with nothing to cause them, until one shadow stayed, and grew larger and darker every second. 

Tifa, looking healthier than she had in the cavern, looked up. "Something's coming!" 

"Jenova." Cloud's voice was flat and dull, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. A single violent shudder shook him when Jenova soared up from the depths. 

She was nothing Reeve had expected, nothing he could have expected. Jenova was a grotesque cross between a bloated, legless spider and a human, with tentacles instead of arms, and the perfectly formed breasts on the human torso only made the whole more repulsive. 

She struck out with her left tentacle first, knocking Cid and Vincent off their feet, then with her right, knocking Cait and Yuffie flat. Cloud attacked the human torso, tearing a gaping wound in her abdomen. Cait clambered back upright and cast protective magic on the closest people first, and then oneveryone else. Cid tried to pin the left tentacle down with his spear, but Jenova ripped the tentacle free and nearly tore the spear out of his hands. 

Yuffie cut off the tip of the right tentacle with her shuriken; Jenova knocked her flat again, and she sprawled for a moment, disoriented, before scrambling to her feet. Nanaki roared, the air glimmering around him, and a great metal figure rose up behind him to fire blasts of brilliant white light at Jenova. Jenova shrieked, alien harmonics and tones that overloaded Cait's aural sensors. Yuffie hacked off more of Jenova's tentacle, kicking the remnants off the floating rock; Cid stabbed the bloated sac with his spear; thick, steaming greenish liquid oozed out of the hole, burning the rock platform. 

Cloud attacked the human torso again, nearly severing the head this time, and Jenova collapsed, the sac bursting. The main gush of whatever the stuff was fell away from them, dark blobs falling with the liquid. Enough of the liquid fell on the platform that it began to disintegrate along with Jenova, toppling them down. 

Reeve couldn't tell what happened next, but it was suddenly dark, impossible to tell if they were moving; he couldn't be sure the flickers of light on the edge of his vision were real or a malfunction. Then someone grabbed him and spun him around, to see the light they were all rushing towards. 

"Holy!" someone exclaimed, and someone else said, "But why isn't it moving?" 

"Sephiroth!" said someone else. A black and silver form flew between them and Holy, a long slender sword in its hand. 

Reeve missed what happened next, other than movement and crashing, as Cait's visual and aural sensors overloaded again. When the sensors came back online, they were in a cavern, and a monstrous form was emerging from the depths. 

"What the fuck is that? " Cid demanded. 

"It used to be Sephiroth," Cloud said. 

The thing might have looked like Sephiroth, if Reeve had been able to look past the two torsos(both with heads), malformed wings, glowing sphere in the stomach, and sick coloring. The mouths on both heads moved constantly, but if the noise was intended to be speech, Reeve didn't understand a word. Cloud, Tifa and Vincent were in front of the thing, everyone else on a higher platform to the left. 

It only attacked with magic; after a hasty series of healing spells on Tifa and Vincent, Cait, Nanaki and Cid cast a series of protective spells over everyone. Vincent summoned Bahamut; Cloud and Tifa attacked the smaller head after the dragon had scorched the thing. Yuffie called Leviathan, but the thing seemed hardly fazed by the onslaught of water. Nanaki attacked the left wing; Vincent shot at the right one. Cid tried to attack the sphere in the middle, but his spear only glanced off. Cait cast more healing spells when the thing attacked again. 

Yuffie joined Nanaki's attack on the wing, and Tifa switched places with Vincent to attack the other wing; the attacks staggered everyone, and Cait threw potions and cast healing spells in an attempt to keep everyone at least on their feet. Cid attacked the larger torso, with minimal success, whileVincent and Cloud attacked the smaller one; the wings fell limp, and then the smaller torso. Cid, Yuffie, and Nanaki concentrated their attack on the sphere, Cloud, Tifa, and Vincent on the larger torso, and Cait renewed all the protective spells and cast more healing spells. The glowing sphere cracked in a web from where Cid's spear had hit it, and again when Yuffie's shuriken carried bits of it away, and Nanaki's attack shattered it completely, the light dying as the material slid away. 

With everyone but Cait attacking the torso, it fell apart in minutes, the whole thing falling in on itself and sliding back into the Lifestream. 

"Is - is that it?" Tifa gasped. 

Cloud shook his head. "Can't be. Too easy that - what's that?" 

The Planet screamed and the cavern trembled, and wind blasted up from the bottom of the pit as something rose from the depths. They saw the great black-feathered wing first, then the golden halo over silver hair. Sephiroth's face, blank as a statue of an angel, rose before them, green eyes cold and mad. The torso was as perfect as any ancient sculptor could have dreamed, but where the legs should have been were two pairs of white wings. A gleaming star hung in space before him. A mad angel by a mad sculptor, more horrible than the deformed demons he'd learned about in church. 

Cid lit another cigarette, swore a blue streak, and readied his spear. 

Tifa collapsed on the first hit, Barret on the second, and Nanaki on the third. Cait cast frantic spells to get them back on their feet before another attack could kill them, and before Cid could get off a protective spell, the fourth attack dropped Yuffie and made Vincent scream. The gunman glowed, and disappeared, the bat-winged demon appearing in his place. Cait got Yuffie back on her feet just as Cid got off the first round of defensive spells, and Cloud attacked. Cait cast the next round of defensive spells while Cid threw potions. 

Cait could barely keep track of what was happening; Cloud cast a spell and the star shattered. The demon's attack did little apparent damage, Nanaki's tore loose a few feathers. Yuffie's energy attack left Sephiroth slightly wounded. Black feathers rained down after Cloud and Tifa attacked, and then he lost track completely as he cast healing spells and renewed defensive spells after Sephiroth's next attack. The rest of the battle was a blur of blood, feathers and spells, Cait's sensors overloading and resetting, and rising panic. 

The final attack left Cloud barely able to stand, coughing up blood; Cait cast the last healing spell he could on him and started rummaging for potions. Cloud raised his sword and attacked in a series of leaping slashes too fast for Cait to process, tearing great gaping wounds in Sephiroth's torso, severing the black wing, and shattering one of the white ones. 

Sephiroth screamed in rage and pain, the blank face suddenly alive with shock and disbelief. Feathers fell from the wings, tumbling in the rising wind from below. Skin flaked from the wings and the bone dissolved into dust. The halo tarnished and fell to pieces, disintegrating as it fell. The perfect face and the perfect torso aged and decayed, the green eyes surrounded by rot until they went out last of all. The world went dark and wild when the eyes closed, and they were thrown around, Lifestream loud in their ears. They landed hard when the wind stopped, but it was still dark. Someone finally turned on a lantern. 

"Is ... is it over?" Tifa asked. 

"It better be," Yuffie said. "Anybody got any potions left? Nanaki's leg is all ripped up." 

Vincent tossed over a bottle and Yuffie poured potion over the wound. "How are we gonna get out of here?" she asked. 

"Shit. Don't know where we are," Cid grumbled, shoving himself to his feet and starting to look around. Once the potion kicked in, Yuffie started looking around too. 

"We should hurry - ahhh!" Cloud grabbed his head and fell to his knees. "He's ... laughing at me. I can hear him..." Cloud's body fell limp, like a puppet with broken strings. 

"Tifa! Don't go after him!" Cid yelled. "It's unstable!" 

"But he's - " 

"He'll be fine! Cocky little bastard is always fine!" 

There wasn't anything to say to that. If Sephiroth was still lurking somewhere, no one but Cloud could get to him. Cait didn't have any potions left, but he found some bandages and wrapped up people's injuries the best he could. Yuffie kept looking for a way out, even after Cid gave up and sat down, until the earth began to shake. Loose rocks and unstable walls began to slide. She sat down next to Nanaki and dropped one arm around his neck, pulling her knees up to her chest. Tifa was watching Cloud, waiting for any sign of returning intelligence. 

"Buck up, brat," Cid said, lighting a cigarette. Reeve wondered how'd he managed to keep his cigarettes and his lighter through all this. "You knew the odds like the rest of us." 

"Shut up, geezer," she said, a crack in her voice. "I thought we were gonna die in the fight, not like this." The earth shook again, part of the platform they were sitting on crumbling away. 

"Guess not," Cid said laconically. "We did the damn job, brat. Rest of the world's got a fighting chance." 

"Why isn't Holy moving?" Tifa asked. 

Cloud twitched, head lifting; he reached out toward Tifa. 

"Cloud! Come on!" she shouted, reaching down to him. "Cloud!" 

Cloud suddenly blinked, intelligence and awareness flooding back into his eyes; he grabbed Tifa's hand and scrambled up to her platform as the ground under his feet collapsed, and they jumped up again when that platform fell in. Tifa pointed across to show Cloud that everyone else had made it through. 

Reeve, with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, realized he might be the only survivor, because he wasn't really there. He would have to record everything, so that no one could forget. They weren't particularly goodpeople, but they deserved to be remembered, what they'd done deserved to be remembered. What Shinra had done had to be remembered, as a warning to any survivors of what not to do again. 

The ground cracked and shattered, leaving them with a tiny platform, and a great dark hulk fell to lodge itself overhead, sending huge rocks tumbling. 

Cid looked up, his expression that of a man whose God has just granted amiracle, and his cigarette fell forgotten out of his mouth. 

"That's my airship! What were those idiots doing?" he shouted, scrambling to his feet. "Come on, dammit, she's got her engines in the right direction!' 

Cid went across first, then Tifa. Vincent and Cloud threw Cait's moogle onto the ship, and Cait clung to Yuffie when she jumped across, sliding down the vertical deck to slam hard into the stairs. Barret came next, then Vincent, and finally Cloud. 

"Hang onto your shorts!" Cid shouted, grabbing an unmarked lever at the control panel. 

Reeve didn't know whether the kick from the engines or the roar of Holy rising sent them flying, but fly they did, the Highwind shooting up like the Shinra 26, until they burst into the air above the crater. Holy blazed up past them, Meteor in reverse, shooting south. 

"Cid!' 

"Midgar, I know! Come on, you morons, we got a job to finish!" 

The Highwind shot across the sea after Holy, faster than it had ever gone before, halving the time to Midgar. Holy was a brilliant circle under the burning Meteor, blocking it from the city. 

"It's so quiet," Tifa said uncertainly. Reeve realized that the hisses, pops and clicks, the strained metal groans and shearing supports he was hearing were in Midgar, not on the Highwind . The terrible, sharp cry he heard next wasn't on the Highwind either, but Holy rippled violently, thinned out, and became nothing over the city. Meteor pushed through the emptiness, right over Shinra Tower. The building bent, twisted, began to flatten, and exploded. Reeve thought he imagined the noise; surely it couldn't penetrate down to the slums. 

"Wait a damn minute," Barret growled, looking around. "What's gonna happen to Midgar?" 

"I had everyone take refuge in the slums," Reeve said, waving his arms to get Barret's attention. "But the way things are now..." He was surprised to realize he was crying; he wiped the tears away with the back of his hand. He only remembered crying three times in his life; when he'd broken his arm falling out of a tree, when his grandfather had died, and whenAeris had died. He'd hidden those tears as much as he could, and no one seemed to have noticed. But now ... no one had planned for an enormous meteor crashing onto the Plate. The pillars might not be safe, they might just delay the inevitable, and maybe delay wasn't such a good idea. 

"Forget Midgar," Nanaki said. "We have to worry about the Planet." 

"Wutai's gonna be destroyed too," Yuffie said blankly, looking at Meteor. "That thing's gonna trash everything." 

No one said anything else. Cloud sat down with his back against the railing and his arms crossed over his chest, his face furious. Cid pounded on the railing. Tifa turned her back on Meteor, staring out into the darkness.

"What's that?!" 

Cloud turned his head to look, then got up. "Lifestream," he said, his voice unreadable. 

Tendrils of light were rising in the distance, pouring into a great stream aimed at Midgar. Reeve felt something happening around him. 

"Lifestream," he said, remembering that Neve and Alejandro might still be there. "Lifestream's rising!" 

He could feel it now, see it if he closed his eyes behind Cait's goggles, a bright wash of power and strength, shapes in the stream he couldn't quite make out. The light was brilliant even with his eyes closed, and he remembered something he'd heard a long time ago. Looking into the face of God would blind you, if you looked away, but look into it until you were blind, and you could see. Reeve opened his eyes and looked into the light, until he couldn't see. 

The light resolved into shapes, passing by in a blur; Reeve caught trees and bushes walking, housecats running at the side of great hunting cats, dogs running with wolves, and flocks of chocobos. There were human figures, or things like looked like humans, some armed, most unarmed. There was a woman in plain clothing, with a bright ribbon in her hair, walking arm-in-arm with a man in a lab-coat; they were leading numbers of people dressed like the murals in the Ancient Temple. A knot of people strode past, their arms and armor old, their faces largely young, men and women in old-style priests' robes, in knightly armor and magicians' gowns, a few with horned crowns. Their leader wore light armor and carried a heavy sword; his hair was caught back in a short ponytail, and his eyes seemed older than his unlined face could account for. He saw a great pride of cats with flaming tails next, cubs and adults both, the cubs playing around the adults' legs, and one pair racing past roared a greeting to someone beyond him. 

He wanted to join them; he felt himself pulled toward Meteor, to follow the great crowds marching to Midgar. 

"Isn't it wonderful?" Aeris said, catching his arm and stopping him. 

"Is this ... is this what Lifestream is?" He'd had no idea what he'd been destroying. No idea at all. He found himself with far more sympathy for Vincent and his talk of sin, because he could work until he died and not atone for destroying this. 

"It's different for everybody. But you can't watch it very long, silly cat, or you want to jump in." She kissed him on the forehead, and Reeve fell into a quiet, gentle darkness. 

_to be continued_


	16. Elena: Green Deep in the Heart

Elena: Green Deep in the Heart 

Hojo's notes and scribbled-over computer printouts of reports were scattered all over the floor; ink bled out of an uncapped pen stabbed into a sliding stack of paper. Elena was sitting on a stack of cloth-covered crates in front of the open window, looking toward Midgar; Meteor was a scar of fire on the horizon, and the air stank of brimstone. She glanced at the door when it opened, reaching for the gun at her hip; but it was only Rude, and she turned back to the window.

"They didn't make it."

Rude left his damp shirt and jacket hanging on the coatrack, walked across the room and sat down next to her, close enough she could feel his body heat. "No."

"Nothing we can do now, is there?" If they'd gone with Avalanche, she wouldn't be sitting here waiting. If Avalanche would have let them, and she didn't think Reeve had that much influence over them.

He shook his head, and they sat in silence for a while. Reno was still in the bar, getting drunk; Elena didn't blame him. Staring cold-sober at the end of the world was not a brilliant idea. The city was mostly silent, only a few crying children and the noise from the bar; even the camps were quiet. Maybe it was shock. Maybe it was resignation.

She knew Reeve hadn't planned to leave Midgar; if he had, he'd have gone with Avalanche and died the first time something took a swipe at him. Of course, now Meteor was going to kill everyone; being where he was, he'd die quickly. Lucky him. Meteor blotted out the moon and the stars as the night wore on and the noise from the bar grew uglier.

The explosion was so loud it seemed to be right in front of her. No flash, no smoke, no debris; she jumped to her feet and leaned out the window, wondering whether the Mako reactors in Midgar had blown. But even that shouldn't be audible in Kalm, and the ugly light on the horizon hadn't changed.

Rude caught her around the waist to keep her from falling. "What are you doing?"

"Didn't you hear that?" she asked.

"Hear what?"

The blaze of light shot through the sky like the Mako cannon in reverse, lighting everything up with the brilliant off-kilter glow of lightning, on its way to Midgar. Thunder rattled glass and bones, and white lightning flickered around the burning light. More thunder rumbled in the distance.

"That!"

"Holy."

"Guess they made it."

Rude let her go, and she sat more securely on the windowsill. She took her rosary out of her pocket, absently wrapping it around her hand. Rude stood next to her and watched the horizon. Holy held, and held, though Meteor's light never faded, lightning never slowing, thunder growing louder. Holy failed with a shockwave that rattled windows and rang bells, failed with a flare of sooty light, failed with a savage wind that tore leaves from shrubs and left the air thick with the bitter stench of ashes. Twice she started to say something, stopped, and stared wordlessly at the blaze on the horizon. Rude took her hand, his broad fingers callused and cool, and was silent.

Patience had never been her strong point, even if it was her own death she was being impatient about. Kalm would go first; then Junon, then Costa del Sol. Wutai and Rocket Town would be the last, probably. Or maybe Icicle Inn. The wind was rising, roaring in her ears, and she frowned, because the dust and fallen leaves were still. The roaring rose and fell like a heartbeat, and she realized it wasn't the wind but the sea, even though the sea was miles away.

"What's happening?"

"Down below. Look," Rude said, as a window was flung open at the old guardhouse.

Tiny tendrils of green light poked from the ground, growing into tall streamers waving in invisible currents and washing toward Midgar. Windows were flung open, the bar emptied, and still the streamers rose, drowning Kalm in a great green wave. It rolled over her, cracked her open as easily as cracking an egg, scoured her raw and bleeding, and rolled on. She tumbled in the waves, the current racing toward a great fire in the distance, surrounded by as much noise (sex and voices, barking dogs and meowing cats, distant music) as there'd ever been in her Midgar apartment.

Shock rippled through the current, something familiar, and she remembered forgetting something. The second time it hurt; she remembered Meteor and tried to swim against the current. The third time she opened her mouth to scream and drowned, clawing at nothing in desperate search of air, coughing and choking. She coughed until her chest ached, coughed some more, and breathed clear air. She gasped it in, breath slowly steadying, until she quit shaking and could force her eyes open. She was lying on the bed, one leg at an awkward angle and one hand going to sleep; she moved and tried to sit up. Rude pushed her back down. "Don't move yet."

Rude's face and arms were bleeding where she'd scratched him; it looked like she'd given him a black eye too. There was blood around his mouth. Her throat hurt and her mouth was full of blood because she'd bitten her lips and her tongue. Wavering green light cast strange shadows and softened edges, until she wasn't quite sure where Rude stopped and the rest of the room began.

"You weren't breathing."

"I drowned." She tried to sit up again, and this time he let her, sitting close by so she could use him as support without either of them having to mention it. "Was that Lifestream?"

"Yeah. It's still happening." 

It felt like a forest in the rain, cool and wet and green, sliding along her skin like a cool damp breeze. She liked the rain, where it didn't burn with Mako; she'd only seen clean rain a few times, on training missions and her first few assignments as a Turk. It smelled fresh and clean, at least away from the reactors and the Mako taint, and Midgar was never - had never been - clean. Even the best houses always had that taint and decay. She leaned into Rude as the rain picked out lines of light like spiderwebs, vaguely surprised but not unhappy when he turned her face up to his.

She woke sprawled naked over him, to the sound of Reno singing cheerfully and completely off-key.

"It's morning. Aren't you sober yet?"

"Ah, you wake up so _happy_, Elena," Reno said. "Nice view!"

Rude was either still asleep or faking it well; she got up, and pulled on some sweats and Rude's t-shirt, four sizes too large for her. She threw a pillow at Reno and said, "What's happening?"

"I should have kept my mouth shut," he sighed, and threw the pillow back. "Nothing's happening. Last night knocked everybody for a loop."

Elena got off the bed and picked up a crumpled printout with a shoe-print on it and smoothed it out. "So what happens now?" she asked, as she put the remaining papers into neat, if disorganized stacks. Maybe she could find some medical books to use to translate Hojo's notes. "No company, no jobs ..." At least she hadn't slept with Reno; he was too self-centered to be any fun, and she knew too much of where he'd been. Rude wasn't likely to make a fuss over it, even if Reno wasn't inclined to let them live it down. She wondered if it mattered what Reeve would think, if he learned about it.

"Don't care, as long as I don't have to earn an honest living," Reno said cheerfully. "Still have gil, everybody still wants gil."

"Why start now?" Rude remarked. He got up and put on his pants. "Go to Icicle Inn?"

"Too cold. How about Costa del Sol?"

"Too hot."

Elena looked up from a page going into excruciating and incomprehensible detail about reactions to Mako. "Maybe Dio will hire us. He's probably the only person left who can afford us."

"She's got a point."

Reno sauntered over, dropped to his knees behind her, and peered over her shoulder. "What about Hojo's experiment?"

She jabbed him with her elbow to make him back off. "I'll have as much luck making sense of it at the Saucer as I do here." She picked up the sheet discussing her implant. It wasn't that hard to guess any number of things Hojo might have wanted to do with that. It was just which one, and whether he'd succeeded. Considering how sick she'd been, he probably had.

"Guess so." Reno patted her on the shoulder when he got up. "Grabbed some doughnuts if you two worked up an appetite."

"Coffee?"

"Do I look like your secretary?"

"If you were my secretary, I'd tell you to comb your hair and press your suit."

Rude chuckled as they bickered over doughnuts. Elena ate with better appetite than she had for weeks, completely free of nausea.

Eventually they went out to see for themselves what had happened. Children seemed largely unaffected by Lifestream, talking excitedly about all the neat dreams they'd had and showing off collections of rocks and bugs. Some of the adults were transparently happy, as happy as the kids at small things. Others cried constantly, bitter with incurable grief. A few stared into space, eyes blank and empty, and only repeated calling of their name could bring them back to themselves, and only briefly. Some couldn't be woken at all; they lay where they fell, eyes empty, and even moved inside and cared for, responded to nothing. Elmyra spent the entire day looking as if she were going to smile one moment and weep the next, and Marlene cried at sudden, unpredictable intervals.

The people who hadn't woken didn't wake that day, or the next, or the days after. By the eighth day, no one expected them to wake at all. No one came from Midgar, either; no word, no messages, nothing. Avalanche didn't come, and Marlene bawled if anyone mentioned her father. No one was yet willing to risk going to Midgar to see if anyone was left. To see if Midgar was left, if Meteor, Holy and Lifestream between them had left anything at all. 

Everyone knew someone in Midgar, someone who might not have gotten out, someone they were sure hadn't gotten out. Not even the children talked about Midgar very much. Reno and Rude never spoke of it at all. Elena buried herself in Hojo's notes, spending most of her day trying to decipher his handwriting and then figure out what he meant. Sometimes the other Turks tried to help; Reno would get frustrated and stomp off after an hour or so, though Rude stuck around for two hours.

Clouds of dust rose on the road to Midgar on the eleventh day after Lifestream. It might be monsters or it might be bandits; disgraced apocalyptic prophets favored the idea of a Weapon. The best scouts went out to find out what it was, and were back before dark with the news.

The word was whispered, then shouted through town and camps. _Midgar survived._ Not by much, not well, but it had survived. People talked about nothing else, wondering how many people had made it, how many made it here, when they'd arrive, praying their friends and family made it safely. The remaining military set up a new camp, though something had to give. There wasn't enough food or water and the stench from the latrine pits was already overwhelming; monsters were prowling the edges of the camps looking for a free meal or three.

The caravan arrived late the next day: military vehicles and scavenged trucks, cars and motorcycles and bicycles, and even a dozen or so not-very-healthy looking chocobos that seemed happy to be in fresh air, even if they had to pull loaded carts. There were more people than Elena could have imagined surviving, packed into vehicles, wavering on bicycles or walking, exhausted and still in shock, but alive.

"Impressive," Rude said. 

"God_damn_," Reno said, awed. "He did it. The bastard really did it!"

Kalm's supplies of potions ran out in minutes, the alchemist simply unable to keep up with the demand. Almost everything that could burn, that was not actively part of a house, was collected. The refugees in the poorest condition, the empty shells and some of the grieving, were packed into houses where they could be watched over. The rest settled into camp with varying degrees of grace. Religious epiphanies abounded, all in disagreement with each other and the prophets. Rude predicted brawls and riots.

Neve, when Elena found her, was dazed with exhaustion but happy, somewhere between the inexplicable and finally being able to stop moving; Elena dragged her to the convent. Alejandro was sprawled on the floor, already asleep; Neve stretched out next to him and was asleep. The nuns said Reeve was sleeping; Elena left to get some sleep herself.

Neve and Alejandro were still asleep, or asleep again, the next morning, but the nuns told her Reeve was awake. They'd put him on the top floor; the old narrow stairs creaked annoyingly underfoot. She could see him through the open door at the end of the hall, sitting on a pile of blankets, turning a small battered doll over in his hands. He was in no better shape than the doll, battered, bruised and exhausted, beard and hair in need of a trim and all of him in need of a bath. The room's one tiny window had been forced open, but it wasn't helping the stuffiness or the dust.

"Reeve, you look like hell." She'd meant to say something else, something formal maybe. 'You look like hell' hadn't been on her list.

"Elena!" He put the doll down and pushed himself to his feet, wobbling a bit. "It's - you can probably guess how it was. Lifestream was - I'm an engineer. It needs a poet."

"Or a prophet," she said. Then again, drowning wasn't usually a prophetic method. Prophets preferred other people doing the dangerous stuff. "We didn't think Midgar made it."

"It wasn't by much." He looked away, absently scratching the peeling skin on his hands. "The pillars cracked. They could have fallen already. The Plate tipped on Sector Eight's pillar and half of it fell ..." He shook his head and looked back at her. "Sorry, you probably didn't want to hear that."

"Is anything left on the Plate?"

"The Shinra building's still standing. Or enough of it. We could see it for days when we left." He yawned mightily, making her yawn in response. "Mind if I sit down?"

"No." 

He sat down on the blankets, placing the doll carefully out of the way. "Sit down. Not that it's that much better than standing."

She sat down next to him; there wasn't much sense in standing on ceremony, when Reeve was as unemployed as she was. Maybe Dio'd hire him to build more robots like Cait Sith. "Where'd the doll come from?"

He looked down at it, startled and picked it up again. "I found it in the slums, before everything happened. I'm not even sure why I'm carrying it around."

They sat quietly for a while before she asked, "What about Avalanche?"

"They're on their way. Probably be here tomorrow," he said, mouth twitching in an involuntary grin. "As for what happens then ... I don't know."

"So they made it."

He nodded, picking the doll up again. "I was running Cait, through it. I - wouldn't ask them about it. Not yet. I don't think they plan to settle old scores. I should tell Marlene."

"What are you going to do now?"

"I have no idea," he said, looking down at the doll.

The silence stretched uncomfortably. "Come on," she said. "Marlene's probably playing with the rest of the kids."


End file.
